The Longest Weekend
by J.A. Carlton
Summary: 17 year old Dean is left in charge of a flu ridden Sam in the temperamental late Autumn of the Colorado Rockies. As Winchester luck would have it, whatever can go wrong probably will. Sick!Sam and Angsty!Dean. Dedicated to TraSan. Thank You lady!
1. Chapter 1

The Longest Weekend – Supernatural Fic.

by: sifi.

Disclaimed Yes.

Loved? grins

OOooOO

1995 Outside of Coaldale Colorado.

"Jesus Christ dad! Would you watch the road! Don't mind Sammy he'll be fine so long as you don't break our damn necks anytime soon," Dean couldn't stop his mouth but that was the third time some damned pothole in this god-forsaken hiking trail tried to eject his head through the roof of the car.

"Watch it..." John growled half heartedly. Dean was right. When it came to Sam he was always right.

"Sorry..." The eldest muttered glancing back at gangly length of arms and legs that had sprouted a solid six inches in just as many months. "You alright there Sammy?"

"S'the nice thing about laying down... my concussion'll be at the back of my head s'tead o'the top," the teen grumbled and shot a tired smile at his caretaker.

"Well your mouth's workin' just fine..." John smirked.

"Yes sir... s'just a cold comin' is all... a good night's sleep and a weekend in front of a fireplace I'll be fine sir."

"S'more than a cold," Dean said low.

"Mmm," John frowned, "Shouldn't take more than the weekend to get this taken care of though."

"But a _cabin_ dad? In the middle of nowhere? I mean..." Dean frowned fighting the twittery feeling in his belly. He never could stand it when Sammy got sick. Somehow he always felt like it was his fault, like he should've dressed him better, gotten him a thicker coat, thicker socks, _oh for shits sake... why don't I just tuck him in and kiss his widdle forehead too... still... it IS my job to look after him... he gets sick, it's just proof I fucked up somewhere._

"Look I checked the place out, it's fully stocked with everything you're gonna need, the woodpile's roof high, there's a generator in a little shed attached to the back of the cabin. The old Ben Franklin's been mucked out... and it's closer to where I'll be than the nearest hotel."

"No phone." Dean pointed out.

"Ham radio gets picked up at the Ranger Station not 3 miles away," John reminded him.

"And they're going to be with YOU..." Dean shook his head disbelieving, "What're you hunting this time anyway? Sasquatch gone wild or something? And more important, how the hell did you get RANGERS on your side? You never get ANYONE on your side."

John huffed a chuckle swerving hard to avoid dragging his beloved Impala through another woodland crater.

"I think we're almost there, turn on your spot," he directed pointing up ahead and to the right. A moment later he grinned in the darkness. The spotlight winked back at them from a barely visible four pane window closely snuggled from behind by a forested embrace.

As much as Dean hated to admit it, the raccoon infested death trap waiting to fall down around their ears that he'd envisioned the cabin to be, was a far cry from what he was seeing.

For all intents and purposes this little cabin, painted rust-red, with its tidy little porch and wide open front yard, _looks downright homey... at least on the outside,_ brought a faint smile to the elder son's face.

"It's small, just two rooms, one room with two twin beds and the main room..."

"Pot to piss in?" Dean asked.

"Almost literally," John nodded, "The sinks and toilet are fed from a tank on the opposite side of the generator shed."

"It's all gravity flow I take it?" Dean asked.

John nodded, "I checked the line, it's running free and the tank is full, it's got a solar cover to keep it from freezing," Dean nodded his understanding, it wasn't the first time they'd been on wilderness rations, he knew the drill well enough as did Sam, so he continued, "The sofa pulls out to a bed in case it gets too cold and you boys have to bunk up together. Just make sure you shut..."

"Shut the bedroom door, cover the windows and make sure there's nothing flammable around the stove... I know dad... it's not the first time we've done the cabin thing," Dean nodded smiling easily as John's mitt ruffed his hair.

"I know," he nodded searching his pockets for the keys.

Dean ducked down and smiled at Sam, "Why don't you stay here while we get everything..."

"I'm _not _a fuh..." he started to snarl then caught sight of his father's raised eyebrow, "invalid Dean it's a damned cold alright!" then pushed his big brother out of the way with the rear door in spite of the deep wrenching cough that squeezed him in half before he made it to his feet.

"Listen up... you look like shit and I'm sure you don't feel much better but so help me boy you give your brother a hard time..." John started to warn.

"What? He'll strap me down for the weekend? I'll be lucky if I can keep my eyes open or stop the snot from running long enough to take the damned High School Entrance exam..." Sam grumbled shuffling through the moist detritus and dragging his bag along behind him.

_Must be feeling pretty crappy if he can't even carry the damned thing, _Dean thought knowing full well the last thing Sam would want is for moisture from the ground to seep into the workbooks he'd mowed lawns half the summer to purchase. _You're a good man Pastor Jim... _Dean shook his head.

"Was I that bad at 13?" He asked.

"Where do you think he gets it from?" John returned watching his youngest slump against the door and shouldering his eldest forward.

John opened the padlock and drew out his flashlight, moving directly to the mantle where he lit a couple of oil lamps.

"Get in there..." Dean grumbled gently shoving his little brother into the cabin in front of him then moved immediately to the fireplace and laying out the kindling while John got a fire going in the old potbellied stove.

The floor of the cabin rumbled a split second before both men identified the sound and turned back to the center of the room. They were both surprised and unnerved by the sight of Sam sitting upright with his coltish legs splayed out on the floor and a look of deep confusion on his face.

"Sam?"

"Sammy?" Dean pushed his way to the boy's side, thoughtlessly moving John out of the way, "Hey? You trip over those giant clodhoppers again?" he frowned pressing his hand to the teen's forehead, "Dad get the first aid kit." He instructed grasping Sam under the arms and hauling him to his feet, "Dude you're all arms and legs... what the hell are you mutating into?" he asked half carrying him into the only other sectioned room besides the small bathroom.

"Mmmokay... just... kinda lost my balance... I think one of the floorboards is loose'r somethin'," he shook his head as Dean sat him down on the bed closest to the inner wall.

"Yeah yeah... you'd trip over an ant if it got in your way Gracie... did you break anything besides the floor?" Dean asked taking the kit from John and popping it open as Sam swung his head loosely on his neck, his eyes wide with disbelief for a split second before his big brother shoved a thermometer under his tongue, "Don't bite!" he ordered as Sam's teeth jingled against the glass.

"I roke heh phoor?" Sam asked then seemed to clear up just a bit before he punched his big brother in the shoulder, "Ath hoe."

When he'd come to check the cabin out earlier John had remembered to stock the boys up on drinking water. He poured a cup for his youngest and handed him two aspirin to swallow down. "Tuck yourself in Sam. Dean and I'll get everything settled, and I'll be back in just a couple days..." John instructed sitting on the edge of the bed. "I want you over the hump of this cold by Monday, we're gonna be heading out to Jim's and he doesn't need to be spreading _your_ cold around to his parish just before the holidays start you understand?" John admonished.

"Yes sir." Sam nodded rolling onto his side as his dad draped the blanket over him.

_It's just his way of masking his concern,_ Dean thought but read the look on his little brother's face as easily as Sam read most books; it was a look that despite being born of fever in this instance, had actually sprouted to life years ago when John had forgotten how to talk with the boy as a son rather than a Commanding Officer, _way to move right up the ranks there Corporal..._ his eyes flicked to his charge, _you just gotta learn how to read him Sammy... that's all... I promise he's doing the best he can by us._

"How high is it?" John asked after closing the door behind him.

"Hundred and one. We'll see what the aspirin does." Dean nodded.

"You know it's the flu..." John sighed.

"Yeah."

"Keep him hydrated, and keep him in bed," he looked straight into his eldest son's bright green eyes, the ones he'd inherited from his mother, "If there wasn't going to be this stupid convention..." he shook his head.

Dean smiled, "I know dad. And I know that's why you want us HERE instead of at the lodge... what are you hunting?" he asked again.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you... hell son I'm not sure I believe it... point is, since it closed for the season in September there have been six private parties, two of them being ten people or less who've just disappeared into thin air... Whatever it is or whatever THEY are... they gotta be stopped." John explained.

"I know dad... we'll be fine, I'll salt the doors and windows... and we'll hunker down till you get back."

John sidled across to his duffel bag and pulled out a machete, "If anyone comes that isn't me? Cut off their head."

"What?" Dean grimaced taking the machete.

"It's an order Dean," his voice held warning.

_I was wondering when 'sir' would show up, _"Yes sir," the eldest nodded.

Dean knew all too well that if he asked the question twice and had not been answered either time, there would be no answer forthcoming. He knew John didn't like exposing his boys to these 'things that go bump in the night', he knew his dad never HAD wanted to expose them to this world of monsters. At least he was sure there was part of his dad that still felt that way.

He glanced at the closed bedroom door, strode across the cabin floor and opened it a few inches, certainly more for himself than for Sam, then continued the familiar routine of setting up base before crashing for the night.

"When are you leaving?" he asked pulling the bed out of the couch.

"I'll probably be gone before you boys are up, and I expect to be back Monday. If you haven't heard from me by Tuesday morning, get on the horn to the ranger's station and see if you can raise anyone... if you can't... you and Sammy are gonna hafta hike it out there... and take one of the cars, make sure you keep plenty of daylight on your side," John noted his son's curious frown, "Woods can get tricky at night."

Dean tapped his duffel with his toe, "Got the maps."

All these things were standard, all the warnings and precautions and the constant reiteration of who to go to and when, if anything should happen to John... Dean knew them inside and out, Sammy knew them inside and out and though he was a long way away from the restless nine year old boy who'd broken the rules and left the motel room for three pissy little hours out of 72 that John wanted them to be cooped up _the WRONG pissy little three hours_... every repetition of them left him feeling just a little smaller in his father's eyes, especially the older he got.

But after that incident he never rolled his eyes at his father's grating repetition, he never again scoffed or reminded his dad that, '...you know I'm not stupid...' in fact he avoided the word 'stupid' altogether afraid that it would remind his father of the 'stupid' mistake he'd made... and the memory would be brought to the fore once again instead of hopefully buried in eight years of almost perfect care for his little brother, and almost perfect obedience to the rules. _If I can do what he says just right... maybe I can erase that one mistake... please... let me be able to do things right enough for long enough to erase that night..._ a deep part of him that he wasn't even aware existed begged.

"Good man." John nodded and turned to face his firstborn son. It was as if he could feel something eating at the young man. There was something inside him, something fierce and strong and frighteningly proficient and after the hunts they'd been on together, he had very little fear for Dean's well being, or the young man's devotion to his little brother. But he sensed there was something not quite right there too... something held back, something stunted and hidden, kept in the dark and sometimes late in the night when he wasn't on a hunt and wasn't forced to focus on keeping his own ass alive, _and finding out what the hell those damned demons are talking about..._ he wondered if maybe he wasn't the one responsible for that stunted thing, and he wondered if that un-cared for 'thing' would one day be killed by his own son's hand. Maybe because it was something John hadn't dared to nurture during their first years in this wild world. _It'll be my fault... whatever it is, it's part of him... and if it dies... it's my fault._ He took a breath and shook it off, _whatever it takes to keep them safe._

"Good." he repeated.

Dean stood in the small single room looking around, even feeling a little sheen of sweat on his face. In two strides he was back at the bedroom where, although there was still a faint chill in the air, the warmth had begun to permeate. That the potbellied Ben Franklin stove was against the same wall as Sam's bed gave him a lot of relief.

_Wonder if it'd be creepy if I crawled in with him? It'd keep us both warm that's for sure... little guy's a freakin' radiator even when he's NOT sick._ His head tilted to the side and he took a moment to really look at his younger brother, _not so little anymore are you Sammy? At the rate you're growing... you're gonna shoot past me... that's not right. If it was anyone but you I might even take offense. _And he smiled a little sadly.

"Gonna be warm enough or you wanna move him to the couch?" John asked over his boy's shoulder.

"Should be alright..." Dean shrugged, "I'll toss my sleeping bag over him," he nodded toward the window side bed, "make due with the blanket."

"Just don't let yourself get sick too... I don't want both my boys down," John clapped him on the shoulder then ruffed the back of his hair.

"'Kay."

OOooOO

"Mm?"

Dean's eyes flicked across the darkness to his little brother.

"Huhnuh...De..."

He sat up and whispered, "Easy Sammy I'm right here."

"Mmm?"

He leaned forward, twisted and sat on Sam's bed grasping the cup of water on the table between them. He had no trouble finding it even in the darkness, his eyes had long ago grown acclimated and he hadn't had a moment's sleep.

Gently he slid his hand behind the boys head, grimacing at the dripping sweat on the back of his neck. He watched Sam's eyes pop open and heard his breath catch for a split second before a racking washboard cough sat him up.

Dean caught him around the back before he could fall back to the bed, "Here... some water."

"Dean?" Sam asked wrapping his hands around his brothers and bringing the cup to his mouth, "Where are we again?"

"Colorado. Just east of the Rockies..."

"Dad leave?" he gasped after gulping the cup empty.

"Yeah, 'bout a half hour ago."

"Good," the boy smiled groggily, "you're not so uptight when he's not around."

"Mmm."

"Dean?" Sam asked as his big brother gently lowered him back to the bed and tucked the blankets and sleeping bag around him, "You think they'll let me in High School?"

"I think if you wanted to Sammy, you could probably ace your way into college."

"Y'think?" the boy smiled.

"Yeah I do."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"It's Sam... Sammy's a chubby twelve year old..." he snickered.

"Yeah well now he's a gangly thirteen year old..." Dean smiled grateful for the familiar banter.

"Heeh... gangly..." he giggled then frowned, "Mmm hot..." while shoving at the blankets layered over him.

Dean pressed his hand to Sam's forehead, the skin was cool and clammy and he was pretty sure that if he brought in a lamp he'd probably see the slap red cheeks his little brother always got when he was fevered up. Dean sighed, _oh yeah... definitely the flu. First run of fever's down... he'll be spiking by morning then simmer down during the day and spiking again by nightfall. This is gonna be a fun weekend. _

"Too bad... you got the flu Sam, you need to stay bundled up," he stood from the bed, "I'm gonna go toss some more wood in the stove and in the fireplace... you wanna move out to the living room? It's warmer?"

Sam rolled his head loosely back and forth, "Mm mm..." then was out like a light again leaving Dean to the thoughts that sometimes haunted him.

_When I was his age dad ditched me in a freakin' vortex... kept Sammy with him though... well, tossed him at Bobby... left me alone for days in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the barest field essentials... course neither of 'em would've survived I don't think... if it wasn't for me... well maybe they would have... _sitting on the foot of the sofa bed, watching the flames dance in the fireplace the back of his nose filled with the scent of lighter fluid and the memory of a dozen polaroid photos he'd watched burn to ash while in the basement of the house he'd just left, a man lay dead or dying, by his hand.

There were times when the memory was fuzzy and twisted like taffy, partly because he'd already been fighting his own battles against the creatures that had taken firm hold of John and through him Sam. But there were times when it was quiet and sleep wouldn't have him, that he knew they were as sharp as digital video and he couldn't for the life of him, fool himself into thinking he didn't remember every bit of it.

In the bedroom, the nylon of his sleeping bag whispered as it slid to the floor and he got to his feet, picked it up and snugged it around his boy again in spite of the faint protestations.

_Love you runt._ He waved the damp cloth in the cool air and laid it over Sam's forehead once again, unsettled by how quickly it grew warm again.

_This is going to be a very long weekend. _

OOooOO

tbc.

Please R&R

Thanks

sifi

A/N – I'm still working on High Noon... but this one was a request from TraSan and I've kept her waiting for an awfully long time. I hope you enjoy milady.

And I hope that everyone who reads it also enjoys it.

Thank you for your time and attention.


	2. Chapter 2

The Longest Weekend – Day 2, Saturday.

by: sifi.

OOooOO

By the time Sam had unwound himself from his covers and leaned clinging to the doorjamb of the bedroom, the skillet was sizzling on a potholder on the table and Dean was ready with an arm around the boy.

"I can do it," Sam groused stumbling as he tried to push his big brother away, _he's such a mother hen...hee hee... mother hen..._ the image came unbidden, a cartoonesque hen wearing a bright blue apron, with a red wattle under her sharp and lipsticked beak, with maybe some blue eyeshadow, and her comb in curlers, _wait isn't it just the boys that got combs?... ah, who cares..._ he felt his face split into a huge and deeply dimpled grin as he glanced at his big brother, saw the cartoon image again, and turned quickly away before he burst out laughing.

"Damn right you're gonna do it... I ain't holding it for ya'..." Dean stopped, his brows furrowed as Sam flashed _the_ dimples at him and tried to hold back snickers, _Oh great here comes goofy..._ "What?" he asked but the boy shook his head.

"Prfffft... mother hen..." he bent over clutching his tummy and fighting to hold back a series of coughs, "cluck... cluck..." as his knees buckled for a second.

"Dude what are you talking about?" Dean asked. He adjusted his grip around the teen glad he was in the growing phase of things rather than the 'packing on' part. _Still no freakin' lightweight..._ he stood still almost completely holding Sam up while he tried to cough up a lung, the sound alone making him wince. _Sounds like he's hacking up carpet tacks... sheesh dude what the hell did you catch?_ He wondered feeling sweat starting to soak through his little brothers t-shirt.

"Ungh... shit..." he groaned reaching for the sink as Dean maneuvered them into the bathroom.

"You gonna puke?" He asked but got a head shake.

Sam turned on the faucet, "It's frigid dude... you wanna splash I got some warmed up from the stove..."

"Mm hmm," Sam groaned, "Yeah..." then scooped a handful of the shockingly cold fluid into his mouth.

Dean lifted the lid from the toilet and made sure Sam had a good grip on the sink, "You tend to business then holler when you're done... you can wash up in the kitchen, have some breakfast then back to bed."

"Mmmkay... wanna make a fort? Be like the old days?" he smiled sloppily already working the drawstring of his sweats.

"Sure Sam..." Dean smiled turning away from the room but leaving the door open just in case.

OOooOO

Dean breathed a sigh of relief watching the youngest Winchester fill up his butter and bacon soaked white bread toast with as much of the four scrambled eggs as he could fit onto it before folding it in half. In one bite he was chewing half of THAT down in the time it took his big brother to take a breath.

_Now THAT's talent, _Dean thought watching his little brother rubbing his hand through his hair with one hand while the other flattened a few more strips of bacon to lay on the next piece of toast.

He shoved a steaming mug at the boy, "For god's sake drink something before it all gets stuck in your throat." His smile gave away his full relief as Sam nodded enthusiastically, washing down his breakfast with a couple hearty gulps of coffee. "You'd think you hadn't eaten in a week."

"Feel like I haven't... man this is AWESOME!... We got more bacon?" he asked pressing those last three extra thick strips onto the last piece of toast while he finished the previous roll-up.

_Eat up boy, gotta keep up your strength,_ Dean chuckled nodding, "Much as you want."

"I can't believe dad left us with REAL food!"

"Well he did say the place was stocked with everything we'd need."

"Probably the other hunters who use this place... dad wouldn't have a clue."

"Sam," Dean warned lightly from the counter as he separated another half dozen extra thick strips from the three pound package he'd found in the ice box under the floor.

"He wouldn't..." Sam said around a mouthful while shaking his head, "YOU do all the shopping... whenever we have enough to actually shop with that is... and you do the hustling when we don't. Dad doesn't know anything... not about _us_ anyway."

He watched his big brother's head bob up and down wishing he had the balls to say more, wishing he had the balls to ask Dean why he didn't ask for more from their dad. Scratching his head he wondered _why doesn't he ask for better?_ They were old enough now, they deserved to be treated differently than they did last year, or the year before... or three years ago. _But that's just not John Winchester's way now is it? God Dean... what're you so afraid of? ... please..._ he shook his head and sipped his coffee, _maybe one day?_

"Dad doesn't need to be worrying about whether you want Lucky Charms or Cap'n Crunch... you know that... besides he'd blow his freakin' stack if he knew how much we _really_ spent on groceries." he looked back at his little brother and the sweat soaked mop that hung in his eyes, "Speaking of spending... how're your jeans fitting these days?"

"Waitin' for the waters to rise... I swear it's like something out of the fifties... I can see my socks..."

"You shot up almost six inches dude! What'd you expect?... I got a couple old pairs in the trunk of the car I been holding onto for you. Yours still fitting okay around the waist though?" he asked.

"Yeah." Sam eyed him curiously, shaking his head, not understanding what he was getting at.

"'Kay... while we're at Jim's I'll show you how to lengthen em," he muttered absently while forking the not quite crisp strips of bacon onto the young man's plate. He watched Sam layer more egg onto the bread and roll it up, warmed by the familiarity of the young man's routine, "You want more toast?"

Sam shook his head, "Thanks," then nodded, "One more piece," he grinned as Dean dropped two more pieces of white bread onto the skillet, turning them until they'd soaked up all the bacon grease, then letting them set until they were toasted. "You're gonna make some girl one helluva wife one day bro."

"Long as she brings home the bacon, I'll fry it up in the pan."

"But never let her forget you're the man..." Sam sang off key into his mug.

After breakfast they shoved their paper plates into the stove and moved to the couch.

"Don't you wanna go take a look around? See where we're at?" Sam asked.

"You're not going anywhere Sam you're sick and I'll be damned if YOUR flu is gonna turn to pneumonia on MY watch."

"It's _always_ YOUR watch," Sam countered, "Besides I'll take full responsibility."

"Yeah cause that'd go over just great with dad."

"Screw dad man, he's not here... it's a beautiful sunny day out there... you got this place hotter than a sauna... and since when is a little fresh air a bad thing?" his boy challenged.

"No."

"Okay fine, how about I bring my study guide out onto the porch then? Just sit in the sun... and still get fresh air?"

He watched Dean get up, cross the room and root around in the first aid kit.

A few firm shakes of his arm later and the thermometer was back down to zero and Sam suffered the damnable thing poking under his tongue for another three minute eternity.

_It's gonna be back down to almost normal, kid runs hot anyway... watch 99.2... I bet! And I'm gonna let him go sit on the freakin' porch and tonight when he spikes around dinner time I'm gonna want to kick myself..._ He leaned down pressing his ear to Sam's back and his hand to his chest, "Breathe."

Without an instant of hesitation Sam responded, drawing in a deep breath that hitched halfway through.

Dean felt the boy's stomach catch and clench under his hand as he clamped down on the cough that wanted to come out. Then as he blew out the air that sounded like cellophane crackling in his lungs, the muscles began to quiver with the effort to hold back and in another second, Sam completely lost control doubling over in another agonizing bout of gut pulling hacks.

"Yeah. You're stayin' right here on the couch buddy boy, or bed..." Dean reached into the ginormous white box with one hand and with the other took the thermometer out of Sam's mouth.

_99.3... okay so a little off... _he pressed a bottle of Nyquil into the boy's hand, "Drink your shot Sammy." while he wiped the thermometer with an alcohol pad.

"C'mon Deeeeeean!" the by whined, "I hate this stuff... it tastes like black licorice dipped in gasoline!"

_The dare's I could get him to take! ... Man that one has to be the best yet! _he chuckled, "Deal with it... and don't even think about siccing those damned puppy eyes on me..." he warned.

"Maaaaan," Sam huffed slugging back the shot of green liquid and chasing it with the last of his coffee.

"Here take your mind off it," Dean tossed the study guide into Sam's lap as a line of charcoal gray creeping forward from the Western horizon caught his eye outside the kitchen window, "Storm's coming... stay put."

"Where you goin?"

"Relax Attica, I'm just gonna refresh the woodpile."

Sam pushed himself up, "Lemme help... we'll get it done..." and doubled over as another series of coughs tried to drive him to his knees.

Dean frowned, returning to the boy's side in a handful of long strides. With one arm draped over Sam's back and the other ready to catch him if he started to fall, the elder brother stood solid and silent until his boy hung limply from his arm panting, his every torso muscle clutching in the effort to stave off another round, while sweat soaked into his clothes.

"Sorry Dean..." he gasped letting himself be eased back down onto the couch.

"Not your fault kiddo... nothing to be sorry about...but with your I.Q. hopefully that'll teach ya' t'keep your skinny little ass on the couch when I say 'stay'."

"Arf," he nodded, favoring his big brother with a weak and shaky smile before shaking his head, "I don't feel so good Dean."

"Hurl?"

Sam shook his head, "Hurt... everything hurts... arms, legs...my back is killing me..."

"Like a growth spurt kinda hurt?"

Again the young man shook his head, his face twisted in pain as he started to double over, pulling those giraffe-like limbs tight to his body, "Not joints...deeper... just aches."

"Alright..." Dean leaned across to the end table and shook out a couple aspirin then handed the last swallow of coffee to the boy, "... that should help..." he pressed his hand to Sam's forehead first then his cheek, "You're heating up... ahead of schedule... you're not supposed to spike again till near supper time." he frowned. _What the hell is going on here? He's as reliable as a freakin' Swiss watch... I got a baaaad feeling about this._

"Sorry," Sam shrugged sheepishly, scraping his nails up and down over his arms as he listed to the side, resting his head on one of the tatty throw pillows against the arm of the couch.

"What now?" Dean asked scooting to the coffee table making room for the teen. His brows furrowed with curiosity as his little brother looked up at him.

"Itching... is it too late for mosquitos?" he asked slowly unfolding his arms like they were on rusty hinges and trying to find the source of the prickling sensation.

A second later Dean's fingers closed on his chin, angling his head around so they were face to face.

"What?" Sam asked watching his brother look deep into his eyes then frown again.

"Did you touch any plants?"

"No."

"What have you touched since we got here last night?" Dean asked though he knew very well every move Sam had made since getting out of the car. _What the hell? Now we got some freakin' mystery rash too? Geez dude! You can't do anything half assed can you?_ he thought.

OOooOO

_Meat... food... hungry... mmm smells like bacon... _his nose angled upward as he turned, chasing the wind, wondering which direction it was coming from as another intriguing scent caught his attention, the one he was really out here for. The one that had drawn him from his comfortable bungalow style house almost forty miles away in Lincoln Park, to the vaguely identifiable town of Coaldale and beyond, into the eastern face of the Rockies. _Bastards... you sons of bitches are gonna go DOWN! _he swore to himself as a change in the air drew his nose back toward the West and a wave of dark gray sooty clouds began to crest over the top of the mountains. _Son of a bitch! That's gonna be a doozy... I gotta find some place to hole-up._

He turned hoping that he was right, that the scent of bacon had come from somewhere between him and the storm that was coming. _They gotta be at the lodge... or laying in wait somewhere near there... I'll never make it through the pass before that storm hits... Please let it hit and pass quickly...I can't blow this opportunity._

He stayed clear of the trail letting his instincts lead him despite the intensely steeping grade. He really didn't want to take the chance of running into anyone but the memory of the scent of bacon close by already set his tummy grumbling, and betrayed the presence of whatever human might be around.

_Gotta be a campsite or a shack around here... sure would be nice to weather the storm in a nice warm cabin... fry up some more of that bacon... that rabbit didn't go very far last night. Betcha with a storm comin' any decent folk'd be happy t'let me hunker down with 'em... if not... s'gonna be their own fault._ He turned, almost on automatic pilot as it were, threading his way through the thick greenery of the forest floor, following his instincts and the memory of a scent.

OOooOO

"I need you focused Winchester. You're no good t'me if you're gonna be worrying about those boys you mollycoddle..."

"You don't get to talk about my boys," John snarled and turned to the blonde haired man he'd long ago parted ways with, half on account of his certainty the old coot was mountain crazy.

"Y'never did believe me."

"Nope."

"Then why you here?"

"You _know_ why."

"Sons o'bitches sucked you half dry and you _still_ don't believe..." the blonde shook his head.

John turned and cast his steely gaze at the older man, piercing into his eyes and his drunken heart, "Oh I believe in _them_ Dan... I just stopped believing in _you_."

"Saved your ungrateful ass..."

"Your fault it needed savin' in the first place," John reminded him.

"I know," Dan muttered guiltily as his two friends from the forestry service stumbled drunkenly into the room, that is until the door shut behind them.

"You guys find out anything?" John asked.

The two men straightened up instantly, "Not really... I mean nothing definitive." Alex, the youngest of the two shook his head.

"There's one couple that just... feels... kinda off... some of the things they said... they were up in Manning a couple years ago... there's gonna be an old fashioned 'Ghost story' session tonight in the main hall... maybe they'll talk it up in the guise of a 'story'." Larry, the elder of the two shook his head.

"Are they trusting you boys?" John asked.

Alex nodded, "Well enough to probably let us wrangle the truth out of 'em if there's reason to try."

"Good. What we're hunting doesn't give a shit about race, religion or who a body wants to stick it to... that tells us almost everything we need to know," John nodded.

"It's not like we can sit down there waving our machetes around..." Larry sighed.

"Yeah," Dan nodded as John handed each of the newcomers a forearm scabbard with a springloaded short blade in the sheath.

"You won't get more than two swipes if you have to attack, one for the initial cut, the second one to sever the spinal cord... do the job right, if the head doesn't come away, it ain't finished." John instructed as his eyes flicked out the window toward the tsunami of dark gray storm clouds rolling overhead, toward the pass that led to his children. _Be okay boys... _he allowed himself a huff and a smile, _I hope I picked up the right stuff Dean, but I know you'll make due_.

OOooOO

A tight moan from the couch brought Dean's eyes to his little brother, to the crinkled brows, the rocking as he held himself tight for a second then kicked down with his pink calamine-dotted legs trembling before they kinked back up to his chest and he groaned in pain.

_Ain't no damned ordinary flu that's for sure... what the hell is wrong with you Sammy?_ he frowned stirring the fitted sheet from his little brother's bed in a boiling pot of water in the hopes of killing whatever it was that Sam may have had a bad reaction to, be it soap or some kind of allergen or insect.

Sam hadn't been dozing for more than five minutes when Dean had gone to strip the bed after starting that water boiling, before his arms went wild scratching everywhere he could reach; his arms, shoulders, chest and legs. It got to the point where he started swatting at Dean as he tried to pull the boys' hands from his quickly reddening skin.

He grimaced, hurting at the sight of his little brother so tight with desperation and the forlorn look on his face standing in the kitchen in his underwear, scrubbing himself down with a face cloth in the hopes of getting rid of whatever was making him itch like that. The kid was already five six at thirteen years old and looked like a barely covered skeleton shivering in his skivvies in spite of how hot Dean had it inside the cabin.

Once Sam was finished with his 'sponge' bath Dean had tossed him a pair of his cut-off sweats and one of his older t-shirts pretty sure that his bag had been closed all night where Sam's had been opened and rooted through. With Sam re-dressed Dean covered the couch with his favorite beach towel and let the boy sprawl out while he dotted the pink anti-itch miracle lotion wherever it looked like the rash had spread to, which in all fairness seemed to be just about everywhere he could see.

"Well look at you and your pink polka dots..." he breathed softly, wondering what else he could do to ease Sam's sleep.

As the sun retreated behind an ocean of dark gray and time was deceived by a change in the quality of light Dean stuck the thermometer under his brother's tongue again, more disturbed by the fact that he didn't protest, and his teeth didn't even try to clamp than much else. _Jesus, it's barely after one... _his eyes flicked to the window again, _looks like 5 ish... or later... this storm's an all-nighter. Damnit! ... C'mon Sammy... don't take me out of my comfort zone dude... please... why you gotta throw me a curve ball out HERE? NOW? Huh? _He scrubbed his bristled cheeks and chin firmly and shook his head looking around the cabin for anything that might spark an idea, or give him some kind of clue.

A blue burr of paper sticking up from the corner of the first aid box caught his attention as he drew the thermometer from Sam's mouth and turning it till the light caught the mercury, sucked wind. _A hundred and TWO! What the HELL! That can't be right!_ he shook it down, wiped it off and stuck it back under Sam's tongue then reached over and grasped the blue pamphlet.

"Common Ailments, Maladies and Injuries and how to care for them." it was titled.

"C'mooooon give me something I can work with here!" he groused tossing the pamphlet back into the box some time later, half convinced that his brother was afflicted with more than half the maladies listed in there. He had symptoms of so many of them, from poison ivy or oak, (except the weeping pustules that is), to a common flu to bronchitis and a rapid onset of allergies, to pneumonia.

Movement caught his eye and his heart thundered in his chest, _Dad!?_ he hoped but frowned at the swirling melee of white outside the window.

"Son of a bitch..." he whispered moving to the window, "When did that start?"

Less than twenty yards away the trees were barely visible through the wall of white that was falling over onto them. His eyes flicked to the woodpile he'd managed to tear through since last night. _I gotta load us up before that snow gets too deep..._ he glanced at Sam who seemed at last to have gotten to some restful place. _Like hell am I wakin' him up... he'll probably wake up once I open the back door anyway... but still_. So he resorted to the time honored Winchester tradition and set a quick note on the coffee table under the teen's mug. "Bringing in fire wood... be right back... STAY!" He smiled and swiped a gentle hand over his little brother's burning forehead before replacing the cool cloth and shrugging into his jacket.

OOooOO

Following the smoke to the cabin had been easy once it had come into sight. He crouched just inside the tree line wondering how many and more importantly, what _kind_ of hunters there were in there. There were three distinctly different flavors, one of them was quickly fading but the other two were strong, even though one of them was sick. _It really IS amazing what can be told from a person's scent... _he knew all three of them were family, and he knew the two that had been left behind were the young ones. But one of them was an Alpha and that set his nerves tingling with excitement. He wasn't one to shy away from a challenge, and since it didn't look like he was going to be able to get through the pass to go after his preferred targets, _Just TALK to them... Alpha or not... they probably wouldn't even have a clue... just go knock on the door, as for some warmth and some time to weather the storm and some rations... that's really what I want anyway... just something to eat... hot and salty and raw would be good. _

He ducked back as a face filled one of the panes of the front window then disappeared again. Several moments later a deep warm scent was practically shoved up his nose from the rear of the cabin, _it's the older one... he's outside... I could overpower him easily, just take my fill..._ he clung to the tree line and slowly began to follow it around to the rear of the house.

OOooOO

tbc.

Please R&R?

Thanks.

sifi

TraSan? How're we doin?


	3. Chapter 3

The Longest Weekend – chapter 3 - day 2 Saturday contd.

by: sifi.

OOooOO

Dean glanced quickly around the rear yard, _woods press a little close back here..._ and though he secretly liked the silence of a thick shroud of snow over the world, at least for himself, under these circumstances it left him with a twitching belly and a sense of unease that was growing deeper moment by moment. The flakes that were swirling all around and burying this little part of the world were thick and heavy, each one large enough for him to see the crystalline structure of it without even trying, especially the ones that got tangled up in his eyelashes.

_Wonder if I should start up the generator... mmm no. If I need it for the radio I can dig it out and start it up... best not to waste the gas to run it needlessly. What if I need it for Sammy? What if I need help? What if he gets worse? _He calmed his breathing and the galloping heart in his chest, _two and a half days and dad'll be back...if he has to he'll take a Cat or a snowmobile up here to get us... I'll feel better when he's here... _he swept his arm over the accumulation on the belly high generator shed attached to the side of the cabin, then kicked the couple inches of white away from its access door. He looked up at the small water tank. The edges of the solar cover bobbed gently, and just enough for him to see that it was still there. The cover had enough of a dip in the middle so keep it floating comfortably on the surface while allowing rainwater and melt-off to funnel into the tank through a mesh screen at the center. _What's gonna happen when that thing fills up with snow faster than it can melt? _he wondered.

_I'm gonna hafta check that... dad said it was secure... he said he checked it all... it'll be fine. No one knows more about making sure this place was as fit as it could get before bringing us here. Got enough to worry about... long as we have wood, if something goes hinkey with the tank we can always melt snow on the stove. _

He brushed the snow off the tarp covering the woodpile and grabbed from the stack, quickly depositing the first armload on the floor just inside the back door, he turned back for another and felt his hackles trying to rise, _mmm something's out there...probably just wolves or bears or something. Don't let the isolation get to you Dean._ He quickly placed another armload onto the kitchen floor and turned back yet again.

_Still..._ he forced his anxiety to the rear and continued to transfer the wood indoors.

"_If anyone comes that isn't me... cut off their head."_ He heard his father's voice and with the next armload locked the back door behind himself and refreshed the inside stack trying to gauge how much more he should bring in, and to secure the machete on his belt. _What the hell did he think might come? Are we talking about sasquatch here? I mean that's supposed to be like Oregon or Washington... I mean Shep and Tom's neck of the woods... heh woods... what the HELL is he hunting?_

"Mmm... nuhno... nah...locker..." Sam's voice squeaked in the back of his throat, the sudden shifting in pitch bringing a smile to his big brother's face in spite of the obviously bad memories haunting his dreams. _Voice is changing... that's m'boy,_ though he did wonder at the faint glow of pride he felt over something so natural.

"S'okay Sam... no locker..." he assured the boy quietly and returned to the single armchair with the pamphlet from the first aid kit back in hand.

"Mm?"

"Promise," he nodded then breathed easier once he sighed and seemed to return to a more peaceful sleep.

This time, in perusing the booklet he decided to start with the new and mysterious rash that seemed to be cropping up all over his little brother. One by one he went through each of a dozen fairly common types; holding up the pictures of one, and another, and another next to a freshly cropped up bit of it on Sam's lower leg until he sat back on his heels, a horribly weighty sinking feeling in his belly.

_Measles... how the FUCK did you get the measles Sammy?_ he scanned the page back to the incubation period, _eight to twelve days after exposure... where the hell were we twelve days ago? Son of a bitch... coulda been anywhere... droplet... highly contagious... coulda been any little rugrat sneezing or snotting anywhere... don't parents teach their kids to cover their mouths anymore!? Ass holes... Ignorant... _he took a deep breath, _alright calm down Dean it's here, he's got it... nothing I can do..._ he checked the booklet, _yeah... pretty much nothing I CAN do besides what we're already doing... rest, hydration... SON OF A BITCH!_ he pitched the booklet at the kit.

A second later he was on his feet rifling through his duffel bag. Deep inside, his hand closed on what he was looking for, a small waterproof document holder that contained his and Sam's birth certificates, their social security cards, and both of their vaccination records.

"And of course... he's due for the booster at the beginning of the school year..." he sighed checking the date and tossing the holder back into the open mouth of his bag before sitting back and scrubbing his face again, listening to his father's voice in the back of his head, '_How'd you let that happen Dean? It's your job to be on top of these things!' _He frowned as his baby brother let out another moan and squirmed in obvious discomfort, _I'm sorry Sammy... I know it's not my fault but I'm sorry anyway._ The sleeping bag started to slide down to the floor again.

Dean crouched on his knees between the couch and the coffee table and reached over tucking the thick nylon bag behind the teen, wedging it securely between the couch cushions. Sam's hands flailed and pushed as his eyes bulged wide for a second while he barked a harsh protest, "I didn't!"

"Shhh, s'okay, s'okay..." Dean grasped his hands, holding them tight with one while his other used the warm facecloth to sweep the sweat soaked mop off his face.

"Ask Dean! I swear I didn't..." he protested briefly.

"I know you didn't... s'okay..." Dean assured him. It didn't matter what was going on in the kid's head, what mattered was making sure he knew everything was alright.

Tired from almost two days without sleep, and worried crazy about both his sick little brother and their father, hunting God only knew what in the storm out there; Dean leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest on the lump of Sam's upper arm. Slowly he lowered himself until he was seated on the floor, his head finding its way to his forearm on the sliver of sofa. He glanced at the stove, _Fire's still going strong... sheet's hanging in the bathroom to dry... pot of water for humidity,_ then at the fireplace, _going strong, screen in front... s'all good. _And let his eyes close for a moment.

OOooOO

"There's something out there Martin, are you sure...?" Roy asked joining his sire at the entrance to the cave.

"I'm sure..." Martin nodded but kept his eyes on the lodge below, watching the lights wink on in the deepening purple of early evening. "The way this storm's blowin' we're gonna be the only mobile things in this area... and those rump riders in there are gonna be easy pickin's."

"I just don't get people man..." Roy shook his head, "...don't that just go up against all the laws of nature? And there they are just flauntin' their queerness like it's..."

"You're a Gee-damned hypocrite Roy," Glenda slapped him on the back of the head, "Boys like watchin' girls together..."

"Well it's more natural than seein' guys ballin' each other!" he half shouted.

"I dunno," Glenda mused, "Might be kinda interestin' t'watch a guy take it..."

"Both of you shut it!" Martin hissed, finally turning to look at his family as they'd gathered around for the possible impending fight, "I don't rightly give a damn if they wanna go slam it to sheep, fact is we're gonna be fixed nice and solid for the whole winter with this group. True enough it's two more than we're used to handling... and those extra two are hunters but we take them out first the rest're gonna be easy pickin's."

"Wasn't one o'them that hunter your brother Luther crossed paths with about five years ago?"

"The towhead..." he nodded, "I think so. Be nice if I could tell him we've done him a good turn."

"Any info on the other one?" Glenda asked.

Martin shook his head, "Nothin' yet... my guts're tellin' me though, HE's the one we're gonna hafta watch out for. The towhead's a boozer... the other one's sharp."

Roy turned and pointed back toward the pass, "I'm serious Martin, there's something on the other side of the ridge..."

"I feel it, but we'll be down there before it can get through this storm, and by the time it gets here we'll be laying in wait."

"Think it's another hunter?" Glenda asked.

He nodded, "It's definitely a hunter." _And I'm pretty sure I know what kind too._

OOooOO

Dean startled awake with a rolling thud and metallic scrape. As he snapped upright his back and neck shrieked a protest at being jerked from their odd sleeping position.

"Shit..." he groaned untwisting himself slowly, his eyes immediately noting the problem, one of the logs had rolled off the fire and hit the fireplace screen.

His eyes flicked to the blue darkness pressing close to the window then to the woodpile, quickly measuring how much more he should bring in. _Damnit..._ he checked his watch, _Four hours! Man... musta been more racked than I thought..._ a line of damp that quickly went cool over his neck and shoulder told him that must've been where Sam's arm had been resting, and he shivered realizing just how quickly the temperature in the cabin had dropped.

"Well Sammy we might be sleeping out here tonight," he pushed himself up and shambled to the window. "Holy crow..." he breathed noting about eight inches of white standing on the porch railing and frowning as he realized it was falling just as heavily now as it had been this afternoon.

"Sam?" he started to call his little brother up from the depths of sleep while he lit lamps, refreshed the fires and closed the bedroom door after bringing Sam's bag out into the main room.

"Sammy!"

"Mmm?"

"Wake up." He ordered smirking as the boy cracked an eye toward the sound of his voice, "C'mon dude dinner..."

"Mmm mmm," Sam rocked his head back and forth then pulled the sleeping bag over his head.

Dean chuckled, "Alright... look I'm gonna go bring in some more wood... before I can't find the pile anymore..." he waited for the lump on the couch to move or make a sound then crossed to his little brother and lifted the cover off his face, "Sam!" he got another cracked open eye, "I'm gonna get firewood okay?" he pressed his hand to the boys' forehead even as he nodded.

He frowned steeply and quickly wet the face cloth, "Geez dude you're burning up... c'mon Sammy you're gonna scare me if you don't get hold of this okay?"

Faintly the youngest Winchester nodded, "'kay Dean..." he muttered through chattering teeth while he pulled the cover back up to his neck then decided to bury his face up to his eyes in it as well.

_Love you runt..._ he swept the hair from the boys' forehead again then laid the cloth down.

Once again, his hackles tried to rise as his eyes swept to the front door making sure the cross bar was in place before he moved to the rear, angry with himself for not having finished it this afternoon when it was still light out. He looked at the stack against the fireplace wall and knew he could stretch it till morning if he had to... but he'd run the risk of Sam catching a chill on top of the measles, _not on my watch._ He grabbed a thick hide carrier off the wall, touched the machete at his hip and stepped out into the night.

OOooOO

The smell of warmth against the cold called him up from his light dozing, _the alpha..._ he grinned, not bothering to wipe off the snow that had accumulated over him. Slowly he crept around, staying within the tree line, keeping low to the ground, using the mounds of snow to his advantage. The fall had been wet and heavy with huge flakes that clung to almost everything.

The alpha puffed as he swept armloads of snow from the tarp on top of the wood pile only to have it land on the hide sledge, "Son of a bitch c'moooooon!" he heard the young man's rich healthy voice. He felt his lips curl back as he tasted sickness in the air, _the pup. He'll fight to protect his pup...I should go, get through the pass before I lose the scent of the others... they will have moved on toward the lodge by now... I should be there, ready to pounce when they get back... _his eyes closed and water squirted in his mouth as he thought of the easy feast to be had, so close at hand. _Eat first... then hunt them down!_ Slowly, he crept forward, his movement covered by the noise the young man was making.

OOooOO

Dean turned at the same time the snarl hit his ears, he had a split second to think, _Whafa? _and _that's no wolf!_ then _Ho shit!_ as the supposedly mythical creature collided with him, slamming him painfully backward over the generator shed, his/its claws sinking into his jacket while he grabbed at the neck, doing everything he could to keep those fangs away from his skin. _Scratches okay... biting-bad...shit!_ _It's stronger than a man..._ he noted, squeezing at the throat with everything he had in one hand while his left dug at his side for the machete, _what I need are the silver bullets... and I thought dad was nuts... sheesh sorry dad..._ "Sammy! SamMY! Get me a freakin' GUN!" he called tumbling, having momentarily given up on getting a grip on the machete, with both hands around the creature's throat, out toward the woods, and away from the cabin and his little brother.

Cutting a swatch through the snow Dean felt something hard bend a section of his back yet again, _gonna feel THAT later that's for sure..._ as those two inch long, stony claws skidded around the back of his head and down his neck and shoulder. Warm fluid spilled into his clothes and he hoped nothing major had been torn. From the areas that burned he was pretty sure any major arteries and veins had been missed, _if you're up there dude... thanks for that... now just let me get rid of this thing... c'mon Sammy... please wake up man... please I need you!_

The scent of blood threw the werewolf into a frenzy of gnashing teeth and slavering snarls, it pushed harder, summoning strength the young hunter would never have guessed it possessed. _Please..._ Dean thought reaching through the snow, his hand falling on what had dented him. He pulled a half rotted shank of wood and swung, striking the cursed man hard but not hard enough.

He yelped then lunged again, his claws reaching under the young man's jacket, snagging the skin then curling into his belly getting ready to tear into him, seeking the tender organs deep inside.

The pain was worse than anything Dean had felt in years, _even the rats didn't hurt this bad!_ He couldn't have stopped himself from screaming if he'd tried. A flash of light and a spot of dark caught his attention as Sam wobbled at the back door, both hands on the gun that was pointed at the two of them.

Dean shifted his intention, instead of trying to get the thing off him now, he held tightly to it, grabbing its neck one more time and pushing, raising the head as high as he could, putting the burning bloody wetness out of his mind for the moment, "Higher! A little higher!" he called and saw his brother's arms rise just enough. "SHOOT!"

The controlled explosion rattled the air. Heavy clumps of snow 'poofed' to the ground from the tree branches, there was a yip and then dead-weight atop the eldest son.

"Dean?" Sam croaked then stumbled forward, out into the snow while doubling over with the force of his coughs.

"I'm okay..." Dean puffed pushing the man-beast off himself while ignoring his own hurts, "I'm okay Sam... those the silver bullets?" he asked clawing at the ground.

Sam shook his head, "Whatever it's loaded with..." he grasped at his big brother's collar helping to pull him free of the werewolf.

Dean took the gun, "Get back inside Sam... you did good... saved my ass... thanks... now... inside..." he motioned toward the door shaking his head. _Kid comes out in cut off sweats and a t-shirt without even so much as socks on... gonna get pneumonia..._ he sighed. _Thanks little brother..._ his hands shook as he turned around once he was sure Sam was headed back into the cabin, his eyes fell on the patches of blood stained white before seeking out the creature.

_He was right there..._ his heart shifted gears as he turned feeling like he was moving through cold molasses as the beast leaped toward the cabin door and his little brother.

"Sam down!" he shouted as the gun came up the first round hitting a leg of the water tank, the second went wild and hit the tank itself but the third moved explosively through the creature's head. Dean stalked forward, firing into whatever of the body was visible until he stood over it watching the water pour down onto the man, washing away the blood and bone. _How the hell is it still breathing? How is it still alive? I shot it in the freakin HEAD...so did Sam! _he couldn't believe it even after everything he'd seen so far in his life, _Yeah well... not even a werewolf can survive without its head._

He grasped the machete, its handle coated in his blood and raised it over head just as the creatures' eyes came open and a snarl curled his lips back over his jagged fangs.

The cut was clean.

Dean leaned panting, braced against the water tank as he watched the man's features replace the more lupine ones. He hung his head knowing what came next. He had to bury the parts, and given his uncertainty about the creature and its regenerative ability, he knew he'd bury each piece separately. _So tired..._ he glanced over his shoulder at the still open cabin door and felt his adrenaline spike again with the sight of Sam still on the floor.

"Sam? God... Sammy?" he pushed off the tank and lurched to his little brother.

"Sam?" he turned the boy over, feeling his throat for a pulse and gasped when he felt it, fast and thready though still strong, but it was the heat rolling off the boy that scared him more than anything. Apparently his fever had exploded, _either that or I'm just really freakin' cold...please let it be just that I'm cold..._ he prayed and tried to rouse him.

"How the hell did you manage to drag your ass off the couch man?"

"Mmm need'd me..." he sighed slipping toward sleep again.

"Always have always will...Oooh..." he looked at the teen's face, "You still awake?"

When the boy didn't answer he breathed a sigh of relief, "Whew...almost canned my own rep there," he grumbled grasping Sam under the arms grateful for the moaning protests that came as he was hoisted to his feet.

"C'mon runt... let's get you back t'bed huh?"

With his little brother tucked snugly back on the couch Dean moved to the bathroom, checking first the line of scratches that felt like half his scalp was being devoured by acidic fire. Gingerly he sponged the area as clean as possible without opening the wounds again and sighed his relief that they were already scabbing over. Between the dark shiny streaks on the shoulder of his jacket, and the same weighty darkness soaking the lower left side, he was relieved that at least one set of wounds was cooperating.

"Now for the one I really don't wanna see..." he opened the jacket but left it on knowing full well he had to get back outside and handle too many things before he could rest. His t-shirt and flannel were wringably wet. His tummy vibrated of its own accord as he pulled the cotton away from the skin and slowly lifted it up noting also that the left front of his jeans was also pretty heavily soaked, _Oh that's very NOT good... definitely needs stitches... _he grimaced and swallowed hard fighting the desire to simply sit down and not get up until he was good and ready.

The tears in his skin told him exactly how those claws had worked, almost like feline claws, curved sharply to grip deep into the skin and maintain that grip as the flesh was torn wide. _Another swipe or two and I'd be holding my guts in my hands..._ he realized opening the mirror, looking for something to bandage the area temporarily until he was done with the heavy work and could put in stitches he knew he wouldn't tear.

"Son of a bitch..." he shook his head then held his coat closed as he moved to the first aid kit. Grabbing one of the three pressure bandages in there and returning to the bathroom he bound himself tightly and sat on the toilet shaking, pale and sweating, _gonna go into shock... but what kind? If I wind up on the bathroom floor again and it's not from being drunk Sammy'll never forgive me. Alright... I can do this... a little movement and I'll feel better in no time..._ he promised himself and clung to the wall on his way to the back door.

OOooOO

"Ge'outta here..." he groaned as the moon started its slide below the horizon. He couldn't have said how long he'd been outside, alternately digging into the not yet frozen earth, and leaning heavily against a tree periodically to marshal his strength. That was when he first noticed the whiney snarling wolverine that seemed intrigued by the corpse. He half heartedly waved the machete at the fat clumsy creature but it seemed to know he wasn't much of a threat as it dashed awkwardly in, grabbed the head and waddled off. "Mmm one less hole for me to dig," he muttered loosely to himself then shouted after the animal, "Hey! If you want the rest I won't argue!" And though the idea of leaving even the remnants of a human to the will of nature didn't particularly sit well with him, with a hungry wolverine in the area he could appreciate the good fortune.

"Especially since I think I'm going to throw up," he doubled over, barely able to cling to the tree, wondering when the world had started going up and down while it whirled madly all around him.

With the clutching of his stomach the holes in his lower belly flared white hot and he cried out as the edges of the cabin turned fuzzy in his vision. By the time the pain subsided enough for him to breathe without whimpering a snowflake was busy melting on his eye and the nasal grunting of the great fat waddling creature was too close for comfort.

It looked up as he rolled blinking onto his side, its muzzle spotted with blood as those vicious teeth grabbed something inside the corpse's neck and it jerked backwards, pulling out the tender bit of meat.

"It's all yours..." Dean grunted pushing to his feet, knowing only that he HAD to get to the cabin. _I tried to do the right thing... fuzzy little bastard probably won't leave anything to find though... sorry man..._ he thought stumbling and shuffling his way through knee deep snow, each time he fell, leaving streaks of red and wishing he could just let himself rest.

"Deeeean?" he heard upon approaching the back door.

"Out here Sammy," he barely breathed, digging the key out of his pocket. When he left he'd locked his little brother in, making sure nothing could get in to him, or that he couldn't wander out if he woke up and saw Dean missing.

"Dean?" he called, his voice accompanied by a fist pounding on the door, "Open the door!" he choked and gave in to the rasping cough again.

"Go back t'bed Sam..." he panted sliding the key into the lock.

The door pitched out of his grip the instant the bolt was thrown, knocking him off balance, onto his knees in a pile of snow that spilled him into the kitchen.

"Dean!? What's wrong? What happened?" Sam asked heaving for breath as he reached out to his big brother sprawled on his stomach on the floor.

_Mmm floor feels so good... so warm... I could just lay here..._

"Dean? Talk t'me man... Please!" His breath whined and wheezed, crackling wetly in his lungs, and his bony fingers shook against Dean's throat when he checked for a pulse.

_Kid sounds horrible, and that's definitely his 'scared' voice... _"Mmm 'kay Sam..." he groaned pushing against the floor to roll onto his back.

Sam grabbed his brother by the collar and dragged him all the way inside then shut the door and knelt at his side, "Dean? Dean... oh god you're so pale... please..." he pressed his hands to his brother's face and let the tears come, _he's cold... too cold... God please don't take my brother... please..._ he prayed while his chest bobbed and hitched trying to fight the need to cry as well as that damnable cough that made him feel like his whole chest was road-rashed on the inside.

"Gotta get you warm... gotta get you warm..." he nodded once more grasping the collar of the jacket and leaning hard, pulled the unconscious seventeen year old into the main room, right in front of the fireplace. He threw several more logs on the fire, made sure the screen was secure and grabbed the sleeping bag from the couch.

"I gotta look at you Dean... I'm sorry but you're all bloody..." he grimaced and couldn't get a grip on the jacket's zipper tab. When he finally did, the thing stopped in the last few inches, stuck by the tarry blood, "Please..." he sniffed and tried not to sob.

"Dean?" he clasped his hands to his brothers' waxy cheeks, "Oh god... no please no..." his heart pounded. He held his breath and leaned down, pressing his ear to his big brother's chest and couldn't help but wrap his arms around the man when he heard the heart beating strong and sure inside him, and felt the faintest breathing against his hair. "Thank god... thank you GOD..." he whispered, still holding Dean's torso and rocking faintly.

A few minutes later he collected himself and managed to get the jacket open. "Oh man..." he groaned at the sight of the blood soaked jeans and shirts. Gingerly he lifted them, finally getting a grunt from the older boy and sat back on his heels relieved at the sight of the pressure bandage, soaked though it was. "Okay..." he nodded then brought the first aid kit down to the floor and set to work.

The first thing that caught his attention was cold wetness flowing over his belly, the next thing was that half of him was icy cold and the other half was on its way to toasty warm. A second later he heard wheezing and rattling and sniffing then felt bony but gentle fingers on him.

"Mmm... Szam? S'goin' on? Should be in bed," he grunted.

"Shut up," his little brother urged distractedly.

"Mm?" he moaned raising his head to get an idea of what was going on.

"Just lay back... sooner I get this done, sooner we can get some rest."

Dean's brows furrowed, "Choo doin?"

"Just cleaning it. Gonna bandage it up again..." he shook the tears out of his eyes, "can't see straight to sew 'em up... I'm sorry..." he whispered.

Groggily Dean let his head fall back to the floor, still too tired to hold it up. His whole body felt like it was on fire as the cold thawed from him, leaving him with a ridiculous sunburnt feeling, "Hmmnot your fault runt... y'shot it... y'did good..." his lips turned up in a faint smile.

"Was it really a werewolf?" Sam wiped his eyes dry on the shoulder of the t-shirt marveling as his big brother nodded then chuckled while he dabbed at the blood around the holes in his belly.

"Tickling me Sammy... play nice..."

"Big baby."

"Know you are but what 'm I?" Dean asked slowly coming more alert as his internal temperature began to rise, "How're you holding up?"

"Wha'd you do with the body?"

"Wolverine ate it."

Sam's eyes popped wide but only for a second before starting to droop again. A shiver rocked the teen and his teeth chattered through his, "Eeeew."

Dean forced his eyes open and knew almost immediately _he's spiking again... bad... looks about ready to pass out..._ he knew by the fever flush glow of his cheeks alone that his little brother was about to get hit with the full force of the worst bug he'd ever been exposed to yet.

"Sam you need t'rest... you're gonna make yourself worse..."

"Almost done."

"Sam you've got the measles man... if you don't rest it can screw you up bad... it's serious!"

"Measles? That's a kids virus." He pouted.

"You ARE a kid!"

"Fine!" Sam tossed the peroxide soaked cloth onto Dean's belly, "Next time you just go ahead and fucking bleed to death... see what happens when you're not around anymore!"

_Well that made about as much sense as anything else in our lives...It's the fever talking..._ he pushed himself up until he was seated and reached for Sam as the youngest Winchester struggled to breathe through his tirade.

"Tell you what..." Dean began after Sam jerked away, a hint of the petulant toddler he'd once been ghosting beneath his teenage features, _damn kid knows how to get to me every stinkin' time..._ he groaned with a secret smile, _you're my kryptonite kiddo..._ he grasped the thermometer from the first aid kit and handed it to Sam, "Stick this under your tongue," he gasped holding a new pressure bandage to his belly and winding it tightly around the slowly oozing wounds. With that done he slugged deeply on the half pint flask John kept in the kit, then poured a swallow for his boy while he shook out half a dozen aspirin and downed three of them with yet another hit.

"I was your age first time I got knock-me-out buzzed... and you need rest. So, how about I pull out the bed, and if you're up to it in the morning I let you sew me up."

He stopped noticing Sam's drooping wobbly expression and the glaze over his eyes, "Sam? Sammy?" he shook the boy and sighed, more unnerved than he'd thought when his gaze came back, "Stay with me runt."

Turning the thermometer toward the firelight he almost snapped it, then checked again, his heart triphammering, disbelieving that the mercury sat just over 104. He glanced at the shot and downed it himself, "Sorry little brother, you need water not whiskey," he scooted around until he was behind the boy, mostly holding him up while he placed the aspirin one by one into his mouth and made sure he swallowed them down with the trickles of water.

"Good boy," he sighed taking a moment to hold Sam snugly to him, "That's m'boy," and wipe his sweat soaked hair from his face before guiding him gently to the rug. "Be right back."

Moving slowly he locked the back door, refreshed the fire and snagged the pillows and blankets from the frigid bedroom and returned to his brother's side. He turned Sam onto his back and slid a pillow under his head then dampened a couple towels, setting one at the back of his neck and the other on his forehead before reaching for the rubbing alcohol.

As Dean wiped him down with the alcohol in an effort to lower his temperature Sam squirmed, the caustic agent burning his already deeply heated and hypersensitive skin, each whimper slammed like a stake into Dean's heart, "I know kiddo, I know... this sucks... and I'm sorry... but I gotta get this fever down..."

"MmmNo... 'lease..." Sam pushed weakly at his big brother, his breath hitching and starting another round of rib cracking hacks.

"Damn! C'mon Sammy... you gotta cut me SOME slack here...please," he frowned sniffing and reaching for the Vicks.

"Mmm n'ean..." he whimpered reaching limply for his big brother then began to settle once the soothing warmth started to move into his chest.

With everything done that he could possibly think of to ease his boy's suffering Dean wiped his hands clean of the camphor then draped the blankets and sleeping bag over them both and stretched out beside his baby.

He was out before he finished his sigh.

OOooOO

tbc.

Please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi.


	4. Chapter 4

The Longest Weekend – chpt 4 – Sunday Morning

The Longest Weekend – chpt 4 – Sunday Morning.

by: sifi.

OOooOO

_Something's wrong,_ he knew as his eyes popped open. "Sam?" he croaked scooting back and rolling the boy onto his back while his heart thundered inside, pounding at his throat and beating inside his ears, "Sammy?" he pressed his hand to the boys' forehead.

_He's breathing... Thank God... hotter than hell... he's not sweating... that's not good... C'mon Sammy, talk t'me..._ he reached absently for the thermometer and shook it down again, "C'mon Sam... open up..." but his little brother was lethargic and slow to respond.

_This is soooo not good!_ he sat up, suddenly furious with his body's ridiculous and untimely need to pee. He pried at the boys' jaw then slapped his cheek firmly, "Sammy!" He sighed relieved when the teen's eyes finally came open and wobbled through the room before finding him, "Open up," he directed sliding the glass rod under his tongue and holding it there as Sam's eyes slid closed again.

"C'mon Sammy... keep those eyes open kiddo alright... just long enough for me to take your temperature okay?" he tried to keep the fear from his voice and smiled shakily instead, "Then I'll make you some breakfast... we'll camp out... maybe watch the fire and pretend it's the Blob okay? C'mon you know the story as well as I do, probably better actually right?" he babbled nervously, one hand on the side of his little brother's head and the other ready to grab the thermometer the instant 3 minutes was up. He turned the rod toward the fire light and adjusted his position so he could watch the mercury rise. Every tenth of a degree over 103 set his heart racing just another beat per second faster. _Oh God no please ... stop stop stop stop.. right there.. STOP! _ and though it slowed around 104 there was too much time left. _Another thirty seconds? Come ON! That's not fair! Damn watch... maybe the battery's dying? _104.2, _Stop..._ 104.3, _Did you hear me? I said STOP!_ 104.4, _please... _ 104.5 _four seconds left... please please stop please I'll do anything..._ 104.6, _ done! Thank God... Done... _ 104.7, _Oh God... is that possible? Please no... not my boy... Please..._ his hand hovered for several long seconds more until he was certain the mercury had stopped rising.

He slid the glass from Sam's mouth and turned it toward the firelight pressing his eyes dry with the heel of his hand and chewing his lips on the inside as his fear was confirmed.

"Oh God... what do I do? What do I do?... I gotta get this fever down... ice packs? No... too big a shock at this point... man... should I get the generator up and running? Yeah I definitely need to do that... but... when does brain damage start?" he babbled to himself and lurched at the blue booklet. His hands trembled and fingers fumbled through the pages as he sought information on high fevers and how to treat them.

OOooOO

"_...so you got something after you huh? And we're supposed to get all sympathetic and let you and your 'sister' just go?" John asked looking down to the woman tied up in the chair. _

_Glenda nodded and sniffed, "Please... you got my Martin... and you got Roy... we were just tryin' t'survive through the winter... they get harsh up here y'know?" she nodded. "And if we had a good enough store laid in then we'da just been able to hunker on in and make sure that old puppy couldn't sneak up on us... y'know?" _

"_Puppy?" John sniffed, his gaze quickly meeting and flicking away from Daniels' they both knew the term and they both knew it was one of the few creatures vamps knew they didn't stand a chance against. "There's a werewolf out there?" _

"_What's it want with you all?" Alex asked looking up from bandaging his fellow ranger's arm. _

"_It come up from Lincoln... Roy got off on a tear 'n chased its pup and mate down for sport... Martin told him not to," she shook her head, "But Roy... when he got on a tear he never listen t'nobody... even Martin sometimes can't...couldn't rein him in..." she explained. _

"_Well then if that things out there looking for you all, don't you think you're actually safer here with us then?" Daniel asked. _

"_Safer with hunters? You're gonna kill us anyway!" Maribel, the other female finally spoke up. _

"_Well you're not wrong, but would you rather it be fast..." _

_Then there was noise and shouts and the sound of things breaking. It happened far too quickly, and just before the sensation of flying and a sharp breaking pain that felt like it split open his skull before everything went dark with his last thought, 'My boys are out there with a werewolf!... God help them.'_

OOooOO

_Get the water warming first... that'll take longest..._ he told himself, wheeling around in the kitchen area to grasp the pot off the stove and re-fill it from the double sink.

"Son of a bitch!" he yelled as the steel handles literally sizzled into the palms of his hands and the huge pot slid from his grip, spilling what was left of its boiling water through his t-shirt and down his legs. "Shit! shit shit..." he pulled the fabrics away from his skin, grateful for the added bulk of the pressure bandage over his wounds, even though they too quickly lit on fire. He puffed the jeans away from his legs until some of the heat dissipated, all the while the palms of his hands felt like the flesh had melted and was starting to cool back together again, like hot glue. "Fucking brilliant Dean... way to go..." _ahhh shit..._ he winced turning quickly to watch the water race toward Sam before lunging and grabbing the beach towel off the couch.

He flung it behind him, literally sweeping the mess into the towel just before the steaming water hit the teen's outstretched feet.

"Ow Mother... mmm juggs and speed!" he bit back the curse as the burns on his hands screamed with the additional searing pain.

His thighs and belly prickled from the scalding as his gaze traveled the length of his little brother who hadn't moved a muscle through all the noise and cursing.

"Oh God... Sam?" his own pains forgotten he scooted to his boys' side, "Sammy? C'mon man... don't you do this... huh? Don't scare me okay? Please?" he choked whipping the sleeping bag off the teen and leaning down to listen for his breathing.

His heartbeat was fast and thready and losing strength and his breath seemed to bubble in his lungs while the air screamed like a horror movie turned low into and out of his throat, "Sammy please..." he blinked the wetness out of his eyes and quickly set about stripping the boy down to his underwear then picked up the soaked towel and fanned it through the air until it was cool and slid it under Sam's knees, at one of the pressure points the book had said to pay attention to.

Next he re-wet the smaller towels and returned them to both his forehead and neck and finally soaked the other one with alcohol, rubbing it under his armpits, over his chest and lightly just under the thigh bands of the kids tightie whities. Over and over he made the same circuit, turning his head to breathe when the fumes seemed overpowering until finally the boy moaned and tried to shove his hand away.

"Oh God Thank You! Thank You Sammy..." he leaned over and pressed his ear to the boys' chest just as it started to hitch and he started to gasp.

_What now? PLEASE! _"Sam?... C'mon Sam breathe... breathe you little son of a bitch!" he commanded as the boys' back arched upward and his body went rigid. Dean could've sworn his heart took off through his chest as his little brother went stiff as a board and simply stopped for far too many long seconds, _Oh God I'm gonna lose him... he's gonna freakin' die on me! DON'T YOU take him from me! _ "SAM!" he barked grasping him by the head and neck, making sure there was support as a series of tight bucks bent the child backwards, "Breathe Sam breathe!" he commanded.

The world started to spin as Sam's back hit the floor and he lay unmoving. "Sam?" he whispered unable to stop himself from shaking as he leaned down once again, and this time heard his boys' breathing come a little deeper and his heartbeat, though still erratic and far too fast, did seem stronger.

"Oh sweet Jesus... please, please, please..." he prayed rocking back and forth on his heels, trying to collect himself, _don't you touch my boy... nobody gets to touch him... he's mine, always has been, always gonna be mine... gotta get him safe... gotta keep him healthy, gotta get him better..._

OOooOO

"Alright there Johnny boy, open your eyes y'ornery cuss..." Dan sat back on his heels a tight frown creasing the leathery weather-patterns of his skin, "C'mon boy, yer not settin' much of an example fer those candy asses you call kids..."

"DAN!" Alex hissed.

"Y'want them sweet little boys up there t'end up puppy chow fer some de-ranged werewolf Johnny? Huh? Er we could go get 'em and bring 'em down here for the rump riders fest..." he continued, jerking his arm out of Alex's grip, then rising to his feet and backing the ranger across the motel room, "You listen to me if I gotta put a gun t' those boys heads myself t'get him t'wake up that's what I'm gonna do! I ain't gonna leave those kids without their daddy!"

"Look Dan, the temporal bone is the worst place to take a hit... we all heard the crack when that bitch threw him... If he wakes up in the next day or two he'll be lucky! But no matter _what_ your reason is... you don't add emotional distress to an injury like that," Larry admonished.

"You boys don't know John Winchester... that man could be missing half his damned head and he'd move hell t'get to his sons! Besides... damned fool's skull's thicker than the foundation o'this building I'll wager," the vampire hunter returned to the bed, "And not a damned doctor out there among the boys?"

"No," the younger of the rangers shook his head.

"And Martin and his boys busted up the short wave..." Alex looked back at the window, "On a positive note... the snow seems to be slowing down a bit so once it does we can bundle him up and take him to the station on the Cat if we have to."

"Well if we're gonna do that route we'd better wait through today and see what comes with tomorrow morning... we want daylight on our side in case that werewolf..." he shook his head, "A freakin' werewolf! Damn stinking vampires being real wasn't enough!?" he half snarled running his hand through his hair.

"Last night was the full, full moon... he'll probably turn for a couple more nights... and if he's on the hunt for those blood suckers..." Dan shook his head and looked down at John, "I just hope to hell you taught those boys _something_ Winchester..."

"Why wouldn't he?" Larry asked, "I mean... if he's a hunter... like you... why wouldn't he teach his kids as much as possible?"

Dan's creased face twisted in a sneer as his voice mocked, "'Cause he, 'never wanted this life for them...' he just taught 'em how to track and find the patterns and shit for nuthin' trying to hide the huntin' world from 'em while forcin' the mission on em..." he sneered at the unconscious man, "damned stupid hypocrite leaving them kids just armed enough t'get 'em killed one day."

"Jeez Dan..." Alex frowned surprised by the depth of the old man's anger.

"Those boys oughtta be capable enough to hunt on their own by now! Especially the older one! He's what? Sixteen? Seventeen by now? Boy oughtta be able t'track and hunt vamps, werewolves... hell he oughtta be doin' full on exorcisms by now but this stupid old goat hasn't even told 'em demons EXIST yet! He's gonna get them kids of his KILLED!"

Dan rose and stalked through the room barely held rage rolling along beside him, "Last time we worked together... he almost got himself drained dry... what woulda happened to those kids of his without their dad huh? They'da been raised up by some part time pastor or some old junk yard dog... and in the end what he HASN'T taught 'em yet's gonna wind up getting THEM killed too!"

Alex looked down shame faced and stopped his old friend in his tracks with a hand on his shoulder, "Dan... you can't blame yourself for what you didn't know..."

"Yeah..." he sniffed, "Yeah I can... cause it was what I didn't know that got MY boy killed... I'll be damned if I'm gonna let this fool make MY mistake all over again with TWO to lose!" He looked between the two rangers, "I owe him my life that means I owe those BOYS _his_ life too..."

"You think we oughtta take the Cat and go make sure they're okay?" Larry asked softly.

OOooOO

Dean leaned forward in the kitchen chair, resting his head against his fingertips his eyes alternately sliding between the back door and the thirteen year old heart of his life breathing shallowly in his underwear on the couch.

_How the hell did I let that happen?_ he wondered looking at the wet floe of ice that had the back door frozen solid. A glance out the kitchen window to the rear porch told him exactly what happened, when he'd shot at the werewolf yesterday and hit the water tank, it had basically emptied onto the porch, flooding it first, then freezing over. And in the meantime he had no way of knowing how much water remained in the tank, and not that he cared much but it took twice as much snow to make one pot of water on the stove as it did just pouring it directly into the bathtub.

_Course I'd still have to warm it up... _his eyes slid to Sam, _don't worry runt... I won't shock your system... book says luke warm water... luke warm water's what you get... still gonna burn like hell though kiddo... _he sat up as Sam's hands flailed and his head tossed to the side. His skin started to turn red and his cheeks blazed again, _God no not another spike... the kid can't take it..._ but he made his way to the couch, the palms of his hands wrapped lightly in gauze to keep the tears clean. The blisters he'd gotten from the pot on his palms and fingers had torn open when he built up the fire in the stove.

Every move made his hands throb and shaking down the thermometer was no exception, he had to be careful to make sure he had a grip on it but not too much of one. _Can't believe how bad I screwed this up... "Take care of your little brother boy... keep him hydrated, plenty of rest..." and me of course, "sure dad... no problem... s'just the flu, I got it..." stupid Dean... stupid!_

"Open up runt..." he pried the boys' mouth open, "C'mon..."

"Mmm?"

Something seemed to sigh the faintest relief as the boy responded to his voice, "Open up Sammy," he nearly whispered, raising the boy up enough to slide under him, so his head was on his lap making it easier to brush the soaking mop off his little brother's face while he waited for the mercury to rise yet again. _Please please pleasepleaseplease... let it be lower this time... please... let it be lower this time... please..._

Three minutes later he was crestfallen.

Torn between panic and horrible certainty he sat with his brother's head in his lap fighting to contain sobs that made him feel all of four years old again. Four years old and instead of crying for joy over having a baby brother to show the world to, this time he cried for the world his baby would never get to see, if he screwed things up.

"C'mon Sam... s'not fair man... you're mine dude... you've always been mine y'know? I mean dad gave you to me for the first time when you came home from the hospital... but he gave you to me for real _that_ night... you're the only thing I have left that's pure good Sammy... please..." he sniffed his tears back, rolling the far too slim thirteen year old up against his chest where he held him tight and rocked him with his face buried in the crook of his neck, "I'd rather have you be alive to hate me than have to live in a world without you man..."

He looked at the thermometer again, _105.3... it's too high... I don't have any choice._

Careful to use the towel this time he carried the pot of steaming water into the bathroom and dumped it into the half full tub. _It's enough... he's skinny._ He rolled up his shirtsleeve and dipped his elbow and forearm into the water, not quite up to the gauze. It was warmer than the air temperature but not by much. _He's gonna scream bloody murder._

He returned the pot to the kitchen sink and knelt at the sofa scooping the boy into his arms.

He rolled him close, pressing his face to the teen's neck and allowed himself a couple hitching sobs before he pressed his mouth to the kid's shoulder, stifling his fears and rose up with the greatest gift he'd ever gotten in his arms.

"Mmm...ean... mmhot..." the boy seemed to sigh.

"Sure are kiddo... hottest kid in the freshman class..." Dean whispered, trying to keep the rhythm of his speech even, "Gonna have the girls trippin' over themselves t'get to ya... once you start fillin' out that is... now that you've shot up..." he babbled.

As he lowered himself to his knees at the side of the tub, every hurt and sting he'd incurred over the last twenty four hours seemed to flare to life, maybe in protest to the pain he knew he was going to cause HIS Sam... maybe because he thought he deserved to feel something similar... he didn't know and couldn't have said.

"S'goin' on'ean?" Sam slurred.

"I'm sorry Sammy..." the older boy sniffed.

"Mmm? S'goin' on?" And then he screamed.

"Gaaaaaah... stop... help! Please! Get me out of here... fuck its freezing... you're killing me... please..." every syllable punctuated by chattering teeth as the boy fought, and bowed and bucked against his big brothers hands that held him down; and despite their own burning splashed gentle waves of water over the bright red skin.

Dean closed his eyes against the steam that rose off his brother, but as much as he wanted to close his ears to the screams and pleas for mercy, for the cries to let him be... and even to the venom filled, 'I hate you's' that came, he forced himself to hear it all. He forced himself to listen to his baby cry and beg. Calling out not for John, not for Dad but so far gone into his fever that he cried out for his big brother, the one who'd never failed in his life to rescue him from the pain.

In the fiery pool of his own hell, Dean continued to gently bathe his boy until the screaming stopped and the sobbing started.

Sam's bony fingers clutched at his face, "Please don'hurt me'ney more... please... I'll be good... p'romise..." he breathed shakily while tears flowed from his eyes, "Don't care... be good I'll be good... I'll be g'boy...please..." he begged.

"Shhh s'okay... s'okay runt I gotcha..." Dean raised the boy's head and torso from the tub, holding him tightly, crying into his hair, "I gotcha...you're gonna be okay... I swear..." he promised noticing that the boys' temp had already come down considerably.

"Dean?" Sam sniffed wrapping his arms around his big brother's neck, "help me...please... I don't wanna die..."

"Guh...God no baby boy... you're not gonna die... not on my watch I swear..."

"Hurts Dean... save me?"

Slowly the older teen nodded, "I will... I swear I will... just hold onto me..." and he felt the bony arms clasp around his neck even while his hands worked, gently splashing still more waves over him until he felt the scrawny kid start to shiver and heard his teeth begin to chatter.

"Ccccoooollld Ddddean..."

"Okay, okay... I gotcha..."

"Said you'd help me...please... don't leave me Dean... don't leave me alone and so cooold..."

"Never gonna leave ya runt... never I promise..." he washed the tepid water over the boy's face and directed his gaze until their eyes met, "Look at me Sam... look at me... you see me?"

"Mmm hmmm," the boy nodded.

Holding him gently he reached to the sink and yet again shook that damnable glass rod that seemed hell bent on ruining his life.

The positive sign was that Sam saw the thing and opened his mouth. "Don't bite... I'll be right back... gonna get a blanket..." the older brother dashed back out into the main room, then returned to the bathroom on his knees beside the tub, the blanket spread over his legs, ready to receive his little brother if his temp had gone down enough.

Sam looked up from the tub, freezing, wondering at how bad it must've been as his brother took the thermometer from him and after a moment's glance, almost literally burst into tears.

"Sammy..." the eldest boy sobbed, sliding his arms under the kid and hoisting him out of the tub and into his lap where he wrapped him snugly in the blanket and sat holding him tight, rocking back and forth until long after the youngest boy had fallen comfortably to sleep.

OOooOO

tbc.

please R&R

Thanks.

sifi.


	5. Chapter 5

The Longest Weekend – chapter 5 – The Wee Hours and Monday morning

The Longest Weekend – chapter 5 – The Wee Hours and Monday morning.

By: sifi.

OOooOO

Relief left him weak as a kitten after he pulled the bed out of the sofa and laid his little brother, wrapped as snugly as any papoose down.

He tried to lay beside the boy, get some rest for himself, but nothing could calm or quiet the hum of left over fear juice running through his system. He got up, he lay down. He got up again. He stoked the fires with their quickly diminishing inside woodpile and re-filled the pot then set it on the stove, _just in case,_ he told himself. Then he filled the sinks for the very same reason. By the time the kitchen sinks were full the water was trickling through and he knew he'd run the tank out.

He made bacon sandwiches for each of them but when he looked at his sleeping boy, _back down to 103.4... sheesh. Back DOWN! what the FUCK was I thinking letting it get that high in the first place! GOD am I stupid! He's MINE, and I almost... I could've... what if he's got brain damage? Isn't that what high fevers do sometimes? Especially to kids his age? Where's dad? I hope he gets back tomorrow... we need to get him to a doctor and make sure he's alright,_ found he couldn't eat.

_I should go bring in more firewood. Also kinda need to bust up that ice floe... shit... fuckin' brilliant Dean... way to screw everything up..._ as if to punctuate his sense of failure, his belly flared, like four white hot blades deep into him, and slowly, tiredly, he pushed himself to his feet and into the bathroom.

When he sighed, the reflection in the mirror sighed, its sound accusatory. The first aid kit sat precariously on the corner of the sink, almost covering the basin. He lifted the toilet seat and emptied his bladder, the sidelong glance of the man in the mirror frowning at him the whole time, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing taking a piss when everything that mattered to him was laying in such dire straits in the other room.

_Dad's gonna be so furious...I truly effed it up this time... let my boy get sick, I screwed it all to hell..._ "I have to get everything back together... maintain the basic needs inside... fix what I can on the outside... Sammy's my priority... we need wood." He slid his shirts off and unwound the blood-stiffened pressure bandage peeling it gingerly from the holes in his belly, "Can't take care of the boy if I don't take care of me first though..." he winced as the scabs tore off with the bandage and the wounds started to pour again.

"Son of a bitch..." he wobbled on his feet feeling light headed, "guess I still need those stitches."

"Why don't you let me do it Dean... I gotta take a leak first but at least I can see straight," Sam smiled gently, leaning against the bathroom door.

"You're supposed to be resting kiddo," Dean reached out, rubbing his hand through the boy's mop.

Sam smiled weakly, holding onto the jamb as he turned, nudging his brother away from the toilet and emptying his own bladder quickly, "I will... but right now looks like you could use a hand bro..."

All of his defenses down, Dean wrapped his arm around the boys' neck and pulled him close, pressing his lips to the kid's temple, "That I can little man, but then you're back to bed... no if's and's or but's."

"Can I have one of those sandwiches you made?" Sam asked nodding easily, "You did make more bacon right? I mean that's not still from earlier is it?"

"You can have as much as you want Sammy," he ran his hand down the boys' face, in part to feel for his temperature, "How do you feel?"

Sam nodded, leaning lightly against the older boy who represented everything that meant anything to him, "I'm tired Dean... hungry, tired... and I hurt all over..." he ruffed his big brother's hair, "but I'm okay."

OOooOO

"John? Johnny?" Dan sat up with the sound of the senior Winchester's moan. It was the first peep he'd made in nearly 20 hours.

"Mmm." He grunted.

"C'mon man open up those eyes... your boys need you... remember there's a puppy on the loose we gotta get back to 'em, make sure they're safe," he whispered urgently.

"Mmmnboyz," his eyes struggled to open.

"At's right Johnny... your boys need you to wake up..." he urged but it was no use, the eldest Winchester was out again.

OOooOO

Dean's eyes opened slowly taking in the golden light of early morning. Languidly he rolled his head on the pillow taking measure of the room and its contents. The bedroom door was still closed, the fire in the fireplace was little more than smoldering embers and apparently the old Ben Franklin had finally gone dark for the first time since they'd arrived.

"Mmm?" he moaned and squinted at the open bathroom door, "Sam?" he sat up wincing at the burning in the lower left side of his belly. He lifted his shirt and looked down at the four gaping tears. _Well that's not a good sign..._ he thought noting the inflamed margins and the far too obviously greenish globs of infectious ooze. _Hmm thought Sammy was gonna help me out here..._

"Sam? Sammy?" he shouted pushing up to his feet, _Crazy runt better not be outside getting firewood or something... if that fever comes back I WILL kick his ass. _Gingerly lowering the shirt back down he moved stiffly toward the kitchen area. His eyes swept the floor making sure Sam hadn't collapsed or something. At the back door he noticed the ice floe was gone, _melted? it sure does look pretty out there... looks like it's gonna be a beautiful day..._ the golden glow warmed him before he even got a chance to test his theory.

"Sam where the hell did you go?" he wondered aloud and gave a quick jerk on the back door hoping to break it free of whatever ice hadn't melted yet. White heat seemed to stab into him with the rapid motion, as to his surprise the thing flew out of his hand, smacked the back wall and vibrated to a standstill while he doubled over in pain.

_It couldn't all have melted... it was like a freakin' skate rink out there_. He frowned feeling his eyebrows start to knit together as he looked down at the wetness, trying to determine if the porch was wet with water or if the ice had a layer of melt on top of it.

"SAMMY! ANSWER ME!" Clutching the door he stepped outside.

All around the ground was littered with piles of snow that hadn't melted away, the tree line held stubbornly to the white stuff but everywhere else it seemed as if the nearly eighteen inches that'd fallen in the last two days had simply very nearly vanished.

"Alright that's more than just a little effed up right here..." he breathed to himself noting the puffs of white that came as he spoke aloud. "That much snow doesn't melt that quick... does it?"

His belly twitched uneasily in spite of the bird song, the occasional squirrel leaping back into the trees, and the warmth that seemed to be beating into him from the morning sun. Water trickled to his left and he looked up at the tank, the bullet hole visible in the daylight as melt or the last remnants of their supply trickled down.

"Sam?" he called racing stiltedly to the far side of the back porch where he looked over the railing into the mud. "Maaan..." he looked back but there were no footprints other than his own, "Sam..." he groaned as his body tightened and the tears in his belly flared again, this time the white hot pain that shot through them seemed to race all the way up his spine even going so far as to catch his breath in his chest. A cramp around the back of his rib cage reminded him where he'd been dented. As he tried for another breath and found himself clutching the railing in order to stay on his feet the myriad aches, bruises and assorted pains came back in full force.

_Sammy please runt... where the hell did you ... where the hell WOULD you have gone?_ He wondered chewing on his bottom lip and pushing his discomforts aside as he stepped off the porch and slid haphazardly through the mud to the tree line then followed that around to the front of the cabin.

Nowhere around the entirety of the cabin was there a set of footprints that weren't his own, _well then he's gotta be inside...but I looked every...oh man... stupid Dean, stupid dumbass..._ he shook his head and bent over, holding onto his knees he was so dizzy with relief, _the bedroom...runt crawled back to bed and left me on the couch... GOD am I stupid!_

Panting for his exertion and relief, Dean returned to the back porch and set about re-stocking their indoor woodpile. Once that was done he would clean these tears, sew 'em up, drag Sammy out of bed for some food then go back to sleep for a bit, see if he couldn't catch up on what he'd missed over the last few nights, ever since his boy had started coming down with his measles.

_Dad'll be back tomorrow... then we can get the hell out of here and back to civilization._ He thought gratefully.

_He wanted a sandwich... I should take his temp again too, make sure it's not spiking... maybe just get him out of the room it's bound to be too cold in there for him._

"Sam... c'mon little brother... let's get you back out here where its nice and warm, s'gotta be colder'n a witches tit in there..." he smirked pushing the bedroom door open and watching his own breath puff into the air. His mouth turned down, "Maybe not _that_ cold."

He slid into the room leaving the door wide, the shape of his little brother with his knees to his chest burrowed deep under the covers on the bed.

"Sammy c'mon dude..." his spine swayed with the chill that raced up it as he stepped into the room, his hand lighting on the boys' foot and giving it a little shake.

"Sam?"

_Nuh no... no, no, nononononono don't look don't look this is wrong... this isn't right..._ he watched his hand grasp the blankets knowing full well that he shouldn't. He also watched that traitorous hand whip the blanket from his Sam.

_Oh god... no... please no..._

Frost clung to the tips of the boy's hair, ice crystals had formed on his blue mottled skin and maggots worked their way around his open and milky eyeballs.

"NO SAM!" he gasped bolting wide awake just before a scream of agony ripped through him.

"Easy... easy Dean, part of the claw was stuck in there," Sam showed him the stony looking chunk then ran the cloth over his big brother's sweat dripping face.

"Sam?" he panted.

"S'okay... I'm almost done Dean just lay still," he wiped his sweating brow on the shoulder of his shirt.

He looked down, three and a half of the four tears in his belly bore no less than four stitches each with two so far in the last, "You're stitching me?" he asked slightly confused.

"Told you I would..." Sam held up the curved suture needle, "You should've stayed asleep... I got two maybe three more to go... s'not gonna be comfortable."

"S'alright," Dean nodded laying his head back on the pillow and doing his best to keep his breathing even.

"You had a bad dream?" Sam asked.

"Mm? Just... you know... you were still sick."

"I am... but I think the worst of it's over..."

"You eat?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "Man that's awesome bacon... sandwich was like this awesome chewy ball of meat and grease... god it was good."

"You know what that shit'll do to your arteries?" Dean smiled softly.

Sam shrugged and Dean felt it in the pull of the nylon, "S'not like you let me eat that stuff most of the time anyway. I swear would it kill you to let me have some of your doritos once in a while?"

"Growing boy needs good food... besides, don't act like you're not some budding young vegetarian or something."

"Screw you dude I like meat just like the next guy!"

He watched his brother smirk and read exactly where the older boy's mind had gone, he shook his head, "God could you BE a bigger jerk?"

"Sorry Sammy..." Dean chuckled, "but you said it dude..."

"Yeah but you're the one who took it there... my brain lives ABOVE the belt line... dick."

"That's cause you _wish_ you had one like mine," Dean muttered.

"If you're not careful it's gonna fall off before you're thirty."

"I'm careful," the older boy protested, and pointed at his younger sibling, "Besides you're too young to be lecturing _me_ about that kinda stuff... at your age 'careful' should mean salting the doors and making sure you've got your consecrated rounds loaded."

"But hey, I get it... you still need time to decide if you're even into girls..." Dean baited the boy while trying to hide his smirk.

Sam however was well accustomed to his brother's sense of humor and didn't have the energy for the verbal sparring today so he tugged a little too firmly on the nylon while giving his big brother, 'the look'.

"Alright... ow shit dude... alright I'll lay off... at least till you put the damned needle down," Dean chuckled.

Sam nodded an 'I thought so' look at his big brother, "Who said I got ALL the upstairs brains in the family?"

The banter settled comfortably between them till the youngest Winchester looked into Dean's eyes, "You think Dad's alright? You don't think he's hunting that werewolf do you? Or that there are more of them around?"

"He wouldn't tell me _what _he was hunting... but I think if it was that guy, he'da been back already..." he raised his finger as Sam opened his mouth, "And _don't_ say it! Nothing got him! He's fine... and he's not alone. Whatever he's hunting he's got Rangers on his side so don't worry Sam."

"Can't help it..." the boy muttered adjusting his grip on the last flap of skin and pushing the needle through, "He's gonna get himself killed one day Dean..." he shook his head tying the last knot then snipping the end of the suture.

"You're just tired Sam, and still sick... that makes everything seem worse than it is. If anyone knows what they're doing its dad... he's been doing this a LONG time..."

"Yeah well I've been scared a long time Dean..." Sam swept peroxide over the older boy's stomach, cleaning up the blood and meat streaks before slathering it up with Triple X.

"See just proves my point, if you weren't still sick you'd never admit that to me."

"I'm serious Dean," he sighed taping a couple 4X4's down over the stitches, "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe one of the reasons all these things keep crawling out of the woodwork is cause of Dad and folks like him? I mean look at Uncle Bobby, Pastor Jim, Caleb, and Shep, and Tommy and Ryan..."

"Ryan doesn't hunt the same stuff everyone else does..." Dean corrected.

"I know but still..." Sam sniffed as his cheeks started to glow again, "I mean fact is they all _find _these things, maybe they _find_ 'em 'cause they're _looking_ for 'em y'know? If we don't look for these things then we won't find 'em and they won't find us! Right?"

"We weren't looking for the son of a bitchin' thing that killed mom and yet _it _found _us _anyway_." _With a hand from the younger boy Dean sat up and reached for the thermometer, "Time to trade places bro... back to bed with you." He slid the rod under the boys tongue then looked down at his new dressing, "You did good Sam, thanks."

Blinking back his tears and trying to turn his thoughts somewhere else Sam nodded then leaned back wearily on the sofa bed while Dean cleaned up.

To his relief the floe of ice was still under the back door, although it definitely had started to melt. _Soon as the kid's tucked back in I'll get some more wood in here. _He looked at his boy, laying on his back on the sofa bed, his hands behind his head, doing his level best to keep the tears back. _It's gonna be okay Sam, I promise you it'll be okay, you don't need to be scared._

"What is it?" he asked checking his watch as Sam took the thermometer out of his mouth.

"102.4," he groaned wiping the end with an alcohol pad.

Dean nodded sliding carefully into his jacket, "The back door is frozen shut and the water tank is pretty much empty. I gotta get some more wood in here and I'd rather do it in the daylight if you know what I'm saying."

Sam nodded watching him slide the machete back onto his belt, "Don't tear open my handiwork... I left a little slack but not much." he admonished.

Dean nodded, "I'll be careful. I want you to get some sleep Sam, you've got water on the end table, just make sure if you have to go to the bathroom... unless you leave a load behind... don't flush, we can't spare the water."

"You're not gonna be gone all day..." he yawned, "Well you better not anyway...hey..."

"Huh?"

"Take your gun this time."

"Oooh good idea," he smiled sliding his .9mm into the back of his pants. "If you hear any pounding at the back it's just me trying to break up some of the ice... if it's too thick I'll leave it, but if not..."

Sam nodded, his eyes sliding closed, "You need me... holler..." he muttered fading quickly back to sleep.

Dean watched the boys breathing deepen just before his head lolled to the side, _believe me Sam I will... rest easy kiddo, the hard part's over. _

OOooOO

Alex sighed relief as the rear of the cabin came into view. There was a young male on the back porch loading wood onto a sledge and he honked the cat's horn.

"Alright Al, just remember he's a hunter's son... move slow..." he reminded himself and put the vehicle in neutral then slid out the door with his hands visible.

"Dean Winchester... I'm Ranger Alex Strickland. I was working with your dad at the Miner's Lodge." He announced watching the boy carefully.

He saw the teen's eyes flick to the side and quickly followed suit wondering if he was about to be ambushed. His heart pounded in his throat and his breath came short as the boy's hand slid behind his back and produced a gun aimed right at his head.

"Tell me why I shouldn't put a bullet in your head."

"I said I was working with your dad... he drives a late 60's Impala... he took a crack to the head. My partner Larry's en route with him to Miner's End Hospital. I'm sure he'd want you and Sam with him." He moved slowly, keeping his hands in plain sight, and stepping away from the cab of the cat, "Oooh!" his eyes lit up and he startled reaching into his jacket pocket which resulted in the safety being thrown and a round popped into the chamber.

"Hold it!"

"Password! He gave me a password..." Alex explained, "he said... oh shit what was it? Something about ... big foot... damnit I told Larry to let me take him..." he looked up pleadingly at the young man who now stood about six feet away from him, "Oooh! I got it!" he snapped his fingers excitedly, "Sasquatch went wild..."

As effective as if he'd throw a switch, Dean flicked the safety back on and returned the gun to the back of his pants, stepping forward and offering his hand.

"You said he's on his way to the hospital what happened? Something went wrong with the hunt?"

Alex nodded. Daniel had warned him not to give the kids any details, he didn't know what John had told them they were after if anything and Dan didn't want to be the one to have stepped on old man Winchester's toes.

"He got blindsided, took a heavy crack to the side of the head, right in the temporal bone..." he cocked his head to the side noting the scratches down the boys' head and neck, "What got you?"

Dean huffed smiling loosely, "If you were hunting with my dad... you know there's stuff out there... werewolf," he nodded, "Got the jump on me the other night."

"Shit... we heard there was a puppy up here... that's why we decided to get you boys and bring you down... what happened?" Alex asked watching him stack more wood meticulously onto the sledge. "Why not just hack out the back door?" he asked noting the block of ice on the back porch.

"We took care of 'im... cut his head off... when I went to bury him a wolverine decided it wanted the corpse. I wasn't in a position to argue," he sighed and turned toward the Ranger. "You don't get inside without a pat-down."

"Huh? Oh yeah sure," Alex leaned against the porch railing and let the young man pat him down, impressed with the boy's precaution in spite of his obvious condition. That he'd taken more than a set of scratches from the werewolf was obvious in the way he moved. _I'd bet he's got a couple cracked ribs at the very least_.

"I'd say you took a bit of a wallup yourself... did it bite you?" Alex asked taking the rope for the sledge from the boy.

"No... m'brother shot it in the head."

"Silver rounds?"

Dean shook his head, "Consecrated... that's why I cut its head off."

"Well that does work too..." Alex sighed then smiled at the boy's questioning look, "I've been a Forest Ranger for a long time son... I've seen more than most folks know exist." he nodded.

"I think you wasted your trip up here, Sam's sick and I'm not sure about taking him out for a long ride through the cold," Dean opened the front door, "Measles... you might not want to come in."

"I've had 'em but thanks... How's he doing?" He asked picking up the back end of the leather sledge while Dean pulled the rope.

"Fever's starting to go down but he's still wiped out and I'm not willing to risk him getting a chill on top of it," Dean shook his head, "You're welcome to have some food, even stay the night if you don't want to go back down this afternoon but I'm sorry, Sam's my priority."

Alex nodded, "You guys have the short wave up here right?"

"Yeah, wasn't gonna light up the generator till tomorrow if dad didn't make it back yet. He said he'd probably be back tonight."

Alex handed the wood up to the young man so he wouldn't have to lean down to stack it. On the couch Sam moaned and roused from his sleep.

"Dean? Did you say dad?" he reached for the water.

Dean moved to his little brother's side and sat on the edge of the bed, "This is Alex Strickland, one of the rangers dad was working with. He got blindsided and took a crack to the head Sam. The other ranger is taking him to the hospital closest to the lodge."

"What!? How bad is it?" he sat up looking back and forth between the two.

"He was unconscious for almost twenty-two hours before he made his first noise. I'm not sure you know what this means but his pupils were uneven..."

"Concussion... bad one... maybe even intracranial hemorrhaging..." Sam muttered.

Alex looked between the boys obviously impressed.

"We've been tending his uh oh's for a long time," Sam nodded knowingly.

"Kid's a sponge... soaks up everything useful and never lets it go... a one man encyclopedia," Dean smiled proudly.

"I'll get dressed," Sam nodded starting to scoot off the bed but was held back by Dean's hand on his chest.

"Not today Sam. It's too late to start down the mountain and we just got you back under control, I won't jeopardize your health to go sit in a damned hospital where we can't do anything and they might not even let you in... you do have the measles y'know." Dean reminded him.

"So what! He's our FATHER they can't keep us from him..." Sam started to protest then shoved Dean's hand away.

"Sorry Sam but your brother's right. Measles is highly contagious, they might not even let you into the building... now we can go back to the lodge and wait till morning or we can stay here and wait till morning? See how you're feeling..."

"I'm FINE!" the boy nearly shouted and burst into a coughing fit Dean hadn't heard since the night before last.

"Way to convince us dude," Dean pat him on the back then handed him the water, "We'll stay here the night then maybe MAYBE head out first thing in the morning IF your fever's manageable... so lay back and get some rest."

"I'm sick to death of resting Dean..." he protested.

"You wanna help me break up that ice by the back door?" Alex asked.

Both of the older men watched the boy's mouth turn down in a pout as he flopped back down onto the bed yanking the covers over his head and muttering into his pillow.

OOooOO

tbc.

Please R&R

Thanks.

sifi


	6. Chapter 6

The Longest Weekend – chpt 6 – Monday afternoon

The Longest Weekend – chpt 6 – Monday afternoon... and on.

by: sifi.

A/N – This fic has been written by request especially for TraSan. Thank you for asking me to do it, it's been an honor and a privilege. I hope also that when all is said and done you've enjoyed it.

Thanks also to every wonderful reader who's been so kind as to let me know whether or not you've been enjoying this fic too. Your encouragement keeps me going.

Thank You.

sifi

Now...

OOooOO

"Kid no offense but you sure you oughtta be the one up there? You're not exactly in top form y'know," Alex said grimacing as he watched the teen adjust his position on the tiny platform ledge that held the water tank.

He had one elbow hooked over the lip of the tank itself, _that's gotta be pulling those ribs like the dickens... do NOT tell me he's just as stubborn as the old man... worse yet don't tell me Dan was right... sheesh_ and was working the bolts on the funnel brace so they could solder a patch over the hole while the tank was empty.

"I clean up my own messes thanks," he breathed turning his head just a touch too quickly, setting off a cramp in the middle of the left side of his back that oddly enough took a back seat to the wave of vertigo that made him clutch the tank while his breath caught in his throat.

"Damned stubborn fool kid..." Alex muttered shaking his head, "at least take off the gloves so you can get a grip!"

_Not sure that would help,_ he thought noting the sensation of the blister-ooze soaked gauze as it peeled away from the inside of the hunter's gloves every time he moved his hands. _Would be sticky though...eeew,_ he frowned, "I got it, besides there's only one more to take off before I can get inside and patch 'er up."

"Look it's no problem Dean..." he tried to reason as his heart skipped a beat with the young mans clutch at the rim as his balance wavered.

The teen straightened up and stared him straight in the eyes, "You met my dad?"

Alex nodded.

"Stubborn bastard ain't he?" He asked with a wry smile.

Again Alex nodded.

"M'little brother's just like him," Dean watched him frown, not knowing where this was going to go, "Me? I'm the reasonable one, but when I screw up, _I _fix it. You understand?"

Reluctantly the ranger nodded, "Don't you go thinking for one second kid that you don't have your own heaping helping o'stubborn."

_I'll take that as a compliment_, he shrugged with his free arm and held firmly to the tank as he walked toward the second brace.

"Could just patch it on the outside y'know..." Alex suggested.

"Cold solder won't hold as well against the pressure and temperature changes from the outside."

Inside the cabin Sam smiled at the sound of his big brother bantering with the ranger, but wondered, _how's he know he's not up to par? I put the ointment on and wrapped his hands up good... _he slid to the kitchen window searching out his big brother on the tank platform. Frowning at the look on the ranger's face Sam shrugged then turned back to stoke the fires.

With those tasks done he returned to the kitchen and sifted through the ice box in the floor wondering what else they might have to eat besides bacon. He'd already been through the pantry and shaken his head in disgust at the freeze dried rations knowing full well they'd both had enough of those to last a lifetime. Even macaroni and cheese was preferable and there was some powdered milk in there too.

Unable to decide he turned back to the living room and folded the bed back into the couch then opened up the bedroom door to let the warmth in.

A woody crack drew his attention and the ranger's shout, "DEAN!" had him reaching for the door just before a painful sounding thud and whump followed by a familiar groan hit his ears.

"Dean!" he called whipping the back door open glad that they'd broken up the ice holding it closed before anything else.

"Dean!?" he skidded out into the daylight, his heart pounding in his throat at the sight of his big brother on his back, the front of his jacket hitching while the ranger knelt beside him.

"Breathe Dean... just try to take a breath... don't move yet..."

"Dean?" Sam slid around to his far side, his face turned down with fear.

"Mmokay Sam..." he croaked. The words seemed to act like a stopper on his lungs though, and as they came out, they made room for him to draw air in.

His right hand clamped onto his little brother's upper arm and patted it. "Just landed flat, knocked the wind outta me," he nodded toward the cabin, "get inside Sam."

"Can you feel your toes?" the teen asked.

"They're cold as hell... I'm _fine_ Sam... get inside or we don't go tomorrow," he gasped then closed his eyes and drew a slow, calm, deep breath.

"What happened?" Sam asked ignoring the older boy.

Alex nodded at the platform, "Top step on the ladder broke," then looked at Dean, "Did you hit your head?"

"Nuh," he shook his head and tried to sit straight up. Biting back a bark of pain he rolled to the right and allowed his little brother to help him to his feet knowing the only way he was gonna get the kid back inside was to walk with him.

"C'mon runt..." Dean allowed Sam to grab him around the waist and hold his arm over his slim shoulders while scrutinizing him, "So help me Sam... if you cop a chill on top of these effing measles I'm gonna make sure dad keeps you out of school for the first week just out of spite!" he hissed.

"You wouldn't..." Sam's head snapped around, his eyes boring into his big brothers.

"Bet me."

The fear on the boys' face was not only telling, but also rather confusing for the ranger who would have thought any boy at 13 would be glad to be kept out of school for the first week back after the holidays.

"I won't, I swear... let's just get you inside, we'll both get some dry clothes on you can leave the tank..."

Dean shook his head, "Can't. Dad's rep is on the line you know that."

"Then let me help?" Alex asked holding the door open for two of the most stubborn children he'd ever met. There was something that struck him odd about their relationship, there was more than just the sibling bond and he wondered just how long Dean had been playing both father and brother to the boy. His guts told him it'd been a long time since John's eldest gave any consideration to the idea that he was just a kid too. _I'm starting to see why you get so uppity with the guy Dan._

As reluctant as it was the eldest son nodded, "Thanks."

"You guys got it under control?" he asked.

Both boys nodded leaving Alex to return to the tank to smack that patch on the inside while giving them room to tend each other.

Dean glanced around the cabin noting the bedroom door open now, "Get in there and get out of those clothes."

"Why Dean... I had no idea..." Sam jibed.

"Clueless you... now get..." he leaned against the wall, "Toss those sweats over a chair by the stove when you're done, there's a clean pair in the bottom of my bag if you need 'em... and put on that sweat shirt we got you in Florida... and an extra layer of socks." He ordered pushing himself off the wall while Sam grumbled inside the room.

"We're not in freakin' Antarctica!"

"Just do it and don't argue with me!" Dean barked more harshly than he intended to as something in his back snagged, catching his breath in his throat while he moved gingerly into the bathroom closing the door behind him.

_Just keep breathing nice and even and shallow... nothing sudden..._ he told himself gently easing out of the filthy field jacket, _blood and mud... the stuff of a hunter's life... or just evidence of yet another of my screw ups?_ he wondered disheartened.

With his hands on the sink he leaned forward, eye to eye with himself, _Long as Sam's getting better the next step is getting dad back together. Just stick it out Dean, you can do this._

Reaching over his head with his right hand didn't hurt so much, but raising his left did, _doesn't matter, the shirts aren't dirty... just need a fresh pair of jeans. Still I gotta look._ He turned his back to the mirror and raised the shirts up past the deep purple baseball-glove sized bruise immediately to the left of his spine, the outlines of the ribs themselves easily visible now, _Mm bruise is bigger,_ he could still see the darker heart of it where he'd landed on that half rotted bit of tree branch the other night and he wondered if this fall might have cracked those few ribs even further.

"Hey!" Sam pounded on the door, "don't you be dropping any bombs in there dude."

He let the shirts drop, grabbed his jacket and toweled the mud off the back of his head and neck, making sure the scratches hadn't re-opened, then hastily checked the dressing over his belly, easing back the tape to make sure he hadn't torn open the stitches. With a sigh of relief he pressed the dressing back down and stepped out of the bathroom.

"S'all yours princess," he mumbled at the boy before moving into the bedroom.

"You alright?" Sam asked leaning against the wall, watching his big brother's stiff movements, "You're hurt."

Dean shook his head, "Just dented a little... and tired a lot..."

"You sure?" Sam asked, his tone skeptical and bordering on wounded, bringing to mind Dean's long ago promise to never again lie to him about whether he was hurt or not.

Dean sighed and hung his head, his hand inside his bag on the fresh pair of jeans he wanted, "Rib's are bruised a bit, s'just kinda sore y'know?"

Sam nodded stepping into the room, closing the door behind him, "Did you tear your stitches?" he asked moving in front of his brother, reaching for the shirt.

"No you did good...they pulled a little but nothing tore." He assured letting his boy take a look, _will you always care like this Sam?_

"Are you sure?"

"Positive... you did real good," he smiled kicking off his shoes and sliding out of his jeans.

"Nothing else?"

Dean half smiled sliding into the warm dry pair, "Nope a little bruising, and none of the scratches opened or anything... go get me some aspirin and I'll be fine in no time."

"'Kay..." Sam nodded leaving the room for the first aid kit and their dwindling supply of aspirin.

OOooOO

"I have a little sister... got me wrapped around her little finger I'll tell you... tain't easy," Alex nodded then cocked his head to the side looking from the sleeping teen on the couch to the older boy scoping his cards across the table from him.

Dean glanced smiling at his boy, crashed with his workbook open on his chest, "Yeah but I bet you wouldn't have it any other way either."

"Damned straight... " Alex nodded counting out three pretzel sticks, "I'll see your two and raise you one."

"Call," Dean smiled.

"Two pair, aces over threes," the ranger chuckled.

"Aces takes the pot," Dean grinned dropping his hand to reveal a pair of sevens, "Just be glad we weren't playing for money."

"How many cards do you have up your sleeve son?"

"Enough," he laughed then winced, "Damn... don't make me laugh."

"Should think about some x-rays once we get to the hospital tomorrow," Alex shuffled then held up the deck.

Dean shook his head, "I think we're gonna hit the sack. Just so you know, I sleep with a gun."

"I'll make sure to remember that."

Dean pushed himself out of the chair groaning inside with the stabbing pains from the front and back.

"C'mon Sam... bedtime for bonzo..." Dean dog-eared the page Sam was working on and closed the workbook tucking it under his arm as he shook the boy at the shoulder.

"Mmm?"

"C'mon... bed..."

"Mmm," he pushed himself up and let Dean guide him sleepily across the cabin and into the bedroom. Once there he waited while his big brother stooped to pull back the bedding then crawled and flopped onto the squeaky steel spring frame, easily sliding back to sleep with his knees in his chest even as Dean pulled the covers over him.

_G'nite runt... just be okay in the morning..._ Dean frowned easing himself down onto his bed. If he was going to keep his eyes toward the door through the night he was going to have to lay on his left side, _son of a bitch... that's gonna hurt... unless..._ he turned so his head was at the foot of the bed and settled in under the covers. Dean knew that one of his greatest strengths was his ability to get a quick read on folks. He could size people up and get a feel for their character faster and more accurately than most, and every instinct told him that Alex Strickland was a friend. But his sense of certainty was just as dented as his back and the last thing he was willing to do was to put Sam in jeopardy. He'd never forgive himself if anything happened to his boy. _Love you Sam._ He thought just before exhausted sleep swept him away.

OOooOO

_Oh man... that's not good..._ he shook his head looking deep into the cup, _freakin' looks like fruit punch... son of a bitch! Maybe it's a mistake? Maybe it's just..._ but a look down at himself left him with no real doubt. _Son of a bitch..._ he shook off the pink droplets, tucked himself back inside and washed his hands, fighting a twitchy feeling in his belly. _Last time this happened I pee'd pink for three days! _

The nurse was waiting for him in the hallway and looked from the cup up into his luminous green eyes, "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say you've got some blood in your urine..." she smiled sympathetically as he nodded.

"Looks like."

"The doctor'll be in shortly with the formal reading."

In the room he moved from the table, to the chair then started looking through the drawers pocketing alcohol wipes, band-aid's, a few pairs of gloves and a handful of single dose aspirin samples. _I wish Sam was here... well maybe not... he'd be worried, but on the other hand he'd know what questions to ask. I wonder if dad's come around yet? I should be there with him and Sam... Nurse said he was pretty well sedated. I hope Sam doesn't catch anything while we're here... maybe I shoulda made him stay at the lodge... _

"Here we are Mr. Evans..." the doctor slid the door closed and cocked an eyebrow just as Dean was pocketing a handful of sterile gauze pads, "Can I get you a bag for those?" he asked sarcastically.

Dean chuckled and half shrugged, "Bad habit... kind of a pack rat y'know?" but he didn't put them back.

"Anyway, the wound culture from the clawing is on its way to the lab though there's little doubt the most medial one's infected... whoever sewed you up did a good job, I hated to cut the suture to pack the wound... if you can't make it in to get it re-packed tomorrow you'll have to do it yourself." he handed the young man a bottle of packing from the drawer, "GENTLY... fan about eight inches of this into the wound, you'll see how once you pull the old stuff out. There'll be a prescription for antibiotics waiting for you at the pharmacy, take them as ordered until they're all gone. NO stockpiling!" he admonished.

Dean nodded, "Yes sir."

"You're lucky that cat didn't get you any deeper in the neck too."

"Yeah... the claws in the belly were bad enough," he sniffed.

"Alright on to the big problem," doctor Parker, the kindly faced black man flashed a shiny white grin and consulted the chart in his hand. "As you're probably aware you've got a LOT of blood in your urine... I'd like to get you downstairs for what's called an IVP to check the extent of the damage." he looked up, "How old are you again son?"

"Eighteen," he lied easily, "So what's this test consist of?"

"Well, we inject you with some dye then take some x-rays that'll show us if your kidneys are leaking into your body."

"Eeew," he grimaced, "does it take long?"

Dr. Parker shook his head, "Give it about an hour all told, x-ray's not too busy today."

"What caused it? The fractures or the dislocations?" he asked.

"It's hard to say for sure at this point but I'd venture to bet it was the dislocations. You said you landed flat on your back right?"

Dean nodded.

"You probably snapped that cartilage right off the vertebral facet... and it probably traumatized your kidney."

"How do we fix it?"

Dr. Parker smiled easily, "Let's do the test first then we'll talk options once we know what's going on for sure okay?"

Dean nodded.

"Is there anyone we can call to come stay with you? Or ..."

"I'm not checking in doc..."

"No no... we just don't like to send patients home alone after a test like this."

"Oh. No... let's just do this and get it over with."

OOooOO

"Where the _hell_ have you _been_ Dean? You've been gone forever!" Sam scolded as his big brother adjusted the roll in his sleeves to hide the band-aid where the IV had gone in.

He smirked weakly, "Sorry runt... I met this hot nurse in the neonatal ward...Mmm." he licked his lips.

"Babies? What were you doing over there?"

"I got turned around and thought it was the babe section... who knew it was a poop and puke factory..." he nodded toward their father, "How's he doing? Has he woken up yet?"

Sam shook his head, "Nuh uh... just a lot of grunting and groaning, Doc said that's a good sign though..."

"Where's Alex?" Dean asked noticing their bags on the floor by the wall.

"He took the cat back up to the lodge," Sam grinned and reached into his pants pocket, "Guess what his buddy Larry brought down?" he jingled the Impala keys in front of his big brother, delighting as his eyes lit up and he snatched them.

"Shhit..." he grimaced grabbing at the door frame and breathing hard.

Sam watched his brother go pale and clutch the door in obvious pain, "What's the matter?" he asked but Dean shook his head.

"Later."

OOooOO

"C'mon you said you'd tell me later... it's later..."

"Fine..." Dean opened the door, letting his little brother into the bathroom and holding his shirt up so Sam could see the packing in the puncture.

"Eeew dude that's kinda gross... guess I didn't clean it out as good as I thought... sorry Dean."

"S'not your fault... not anyone's fault Sam... it just happened but I might need your help changing the packing until it's all drained out."

He chuckled at the teen's wary expression, "Don't worry I snagged some gloves."

"What's this?" Sam asked tapping the band of white snugged around the older boy's chest.

"S'a rib belt... got a couple fractures, this helps make breathing easier."

"From when you fell?"

_Here we go... moment of truth time. _"No, that's the dislocations... the fractures came from this branch I tumbled onto when the werewolf attacked."

"You got dislocations too!? I didn't know ribs could dislocate... geez man when were you gonna tell me this stuff?"

"I'm telling you now. Look I didn't want dad to hear okay, unconscious or not, the last thing he needs to worry about is just how bad I effed everything up okay? So you keep this between us... just you and me."

"Effed everything up? You didn't do anything wrong!" Sam protested.

"Fine, whatever... point is dad needs to focus on HIS healing... not worry about..." _what kind of crap my incompetence left behind for him to clean up._

"His _SON_?" Sam asked angrily, "He's gonna know you're not on top of your game."

Dean sighed, "You're probably right... and I'll probably tell him eventually... once he's better. Doc said I'll need about six weeks so there's really no getting around it," _oh and let's don't forget that I could be pissing pink for half that time... renal trauma... great. _He looked at his little brother wondering just how mad he'd be if he found out on his own rather than having Dean tell him. "But let's just make sure he's okay to handle it first... deal?" He asked watching the care his boy took with swabbing the area around the wound and then replacing the dressing. _You got a knack Sam._

"Deal... long as you tell him instead of letting him take you on a hunt or something if you're not healed up."

"Fair enough," Dean nodded reaching into the first aid kit for the thermometer, "Now... open up."

"Awww come ON Dean!"

"You're still flushed and you're still coughing hard enough that it hurts ME..." the glass clinked against the boys' teeth, "Don't bite." He ordered turning the teen by the shoulders and guiding him out to the main room of the kitchenette they'd rented.

"At least we have cable," Dean split the pot of soup between them both then crumbled a handful of crackers into his own before situating himself on his bed while Sam watched, his lips pouting around the thermometer sticking out of them.

"Alright alright Samantha... gimme that thing," he held the rod to the light and sighed.

"Well?"

"101.6. Better but not good, now eat your soup then drink your shot and tuck in."

"What're you gonna do?"

"Find the playboy channel and spank the monkey what do you think I'm gonna do?" he shook his head.

"Was just askin... jeez..." Sam blew on the soup, "Y'know you're a cranky s.o.b. when you're sick."

"Yeah yeah... I'm just getting you ready for when Dad gets released..."

"OH _God_!" Sam rolled his eyes and flopped back against his pillows, "Are we at pastor Jim's yet?"

OOooOO

One Week Later.

John sat in the car outside of Jim's house, the empty passenger seat left him feeling cold and kinda naked as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the few sheets of paper Bobby had faxed over to the church office for him.

At first he'd thought it was regarding his own hospital stay there at Miner's End, but when he saw the patient name on the statement of treatment his blood turned icy and his breath came short. He'd had trouble keeping his voice down from Jim's study while he vented his frustration at Bobby.

"_You mean to tell me it's not bad enough my kids faced down a werewolf all on their own in the middle of nowhere but one of 'em got busted up enough to get a medical check out? WITHOUT BEING FORCED INTO IT!?" _he'd nearly screamed. _"Did you read this Bobby? Fractures... three of those, dislocations... where... ah yeah... TWO rib dislocations... and Renal trauma? My kid's been pissing blood and nobody thought to tell me!" _

That was two days ago. Two long days he'd held his father's anger inside and watched his boys carefully, making sure neither of them was pushing anything too hard, after all Sam was just getting over a bout of bronchitis that came right alongside of his measles too.

He sighed, the warmth and scent of his firstborn lingering on his jacket while he remembered the first time Dean had tried to keep injuries secret from him. He knew the boy well enough to know he'd only been trying to keep things as easy as possible for John, and he'd engaged his little brother to help keep the secret. _His loyalty is always going to be to Dean... even before me..._ he nodded, "I can live with that."

"_If I didn't tell you before Dean? I'm real proud of you son..." he reached over and cupped Sam's face too, "Both of you. You took good care of each other, that's the important thing." _

He didn't understand the shock his statement had brought to Sam's face, but there'd be time to think about that later, right now he was satisfied with the look of gratitude on Deans.

He turned his head to look into Jim's front room window and saw Dean staring out at the car. He tucked the paperwork back into his pocket, leaned over and waved with a smile at his boy noting the stiffness of his movement as he raised his hand in return.

"Be back in a couple days... stay safe." _Love y'boy._

Slowly he pulled away from the curb rolling toward his next hunt.

OOooOO

End.

Please R&R.

I hope you liked.

Thanks.

sifi.


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